


A Very Different Rose

by jazzysoggy



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:01:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26898607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazzysoggy/pseuds/jazzysoggy
Summary: Time is not kind, and time made no exception for Rose Tyler. On that fateful day, John Watson was not introduced to the arrogant genius Sherlock Holmes. Instead, he was introduced to a colder, more arrogant, yet broken Rose.
Relationships: Jackie Tyler/Pete Tyler (Pete's World), Mary Morstan/John Watson, Metacrisis Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler, Molly Hooper & Rose Tyler, Rose Tyler & John Watson, The Doctor (Doctor Who)/Rose Tyler
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	1. A Study in Pink: A Different Rose

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story where the Meta-Crisis Doctor dies around 14 years after Bad Wolf Bay under traumatic circumstances. These circumstances are too traumatic for Rose to bear, causing her to go to drugs to dull the pain. Tony would be around 20 around the time this happens, with Rose being around 41, not aging at all. 
> 
> Soon, Rose is forced into rehab by Tony and gets treated 3 years after falling to drugs, making Tony 23 and Rose 44.
> 
> After getting treated, Rose then proceeds to become a consulting detective, as she can no longer work at Torchwood due to her drug abuse problems, yet still needing the adrenaline in her blood, along with the need to solve things. 
> 
> The main story takes place 5 years after rehab, making the death of the meta-crisis happening 8 years ago, with Tony being 28, and Rose being 49 while looking like a 23-year-old. 
> 
> This story assumes that due to the incident of Bad Wolf, she became more than human, like River. Caught up in adventures never realizes it until 5 years after Bad Wolf Bay.

Somewhere in London, John Watson is having a nightmare. He is reliving his days in Afghanistan, under fire in a village, fighting off a small pocket of cybermen. A fellow soldier cries out his name in the gunfight. He suddenly jolts awake, distressed, and strained. He sits up only to realizes that he isn't back in Afghanistan, he's home. After this realization, he tries to calm himself down only to be bombarded by more memories. Eventually, he starts to weep. Because of his nightmares, he is unable to fall asleep, so he proceeds to perform his morning routine, before heading to his psychotherapist.

"How's you blog going?" asked Ella Thompson, John's therapist.

"Yeah, good. Very good." John responds, awkwardly clearing his throat.

"You haven't written a word, have you?" Ella said, continuing to write in her notebook.

"You just wrote 'Still has trust issues'", John says while pointing at Ella's notebook.

"And you read my writing upside down. D'you see what I mean?"

John smiles awkwardly.

"John, you’re a soldier, and it’s gonna take you a while to adjust to civilian life; and writing a blog about everything that happens to you will honestly help you," Ella explained.

John gazes back at her, thinking there really wasn't anything to write about, and despairingly says

"Nothing happens to me."

Meanwhile, on the same day, a police press conference is being held by Scotland Yard about 3 suicides where each victim died in a very similar manner. 

"Well, they all took the same poison; um, they were all found in places they had no reason to be; none of them had shown any prior indication of..." Detective Inspector Lestrade started.

A reporter interrupts him, saying, "But you can't have serial suicides."

Lestrade shoots back, "Well, apparently you can."

Another reporter continues, "These three people: there's nothing that links them?"

Lestrade proceeds to answer the question, "There's no link that's been found yet, but we're looking for it. There has to be one."

Suddenly, every phone in the conference rooms buzzes simultaneously, and the message that is received reads, "Wrong!"

Donovan frowns, then announces, "If you've all got texts, please ignore them."

The reporter, not understanding what the text means, proceeds to say "Just says, 'Wrong'".

"Yeah, well, just ignore that. Okay, if there are no more questions for Detective Inspector Lestrade, I'm going to bring this session to an end," responded Donovan

"But if they're suicides, what are you investigating?" a reporter pointed out.

Lestrade nervously replies, saying "As I say, these...these suicides are clearly linked. Um, it's an … it's an unusual situation. We've got our best people investigating..."

Again, every phone in the conference room buzzes, reading "Very Wrong!".

The reporter, still confused as before, reads it out, "Says, 'Very Wrong'."

Lestrade, in a moment of despair, looks at Sally.

Sally tries to clear up the situation, by announcing to the reporters, "One more question".

Another reporter asks, "Is there any chance that these are murders, and if they are, is this the work of a serial killer?"

Lestrade responds hesitantly, "I...I know that you like writing about these, but these do appear to be suicides. We know the difference. The, um, the poison was clearly self-administrated."

The reporter yet again asks another question, "Yes, but if they are murders, how do people keep themselves safe?"

Lestrade sarcastically answers, "Well, don't commit suicide."

The reporter looks at him in shock. Donovan quietly whispers to Lestrade, warning him, "Daily Mail."

Lestrade grimaces and looks back at the reporters, saying, "Obviously this is a frightening time for people, but all anyone has to do is exercise reasonable precautions. We are all as safe as we want to be."

Finally, the phones are all alerted to a new text message, which reads "Wrong!" again. But Lestrade's phone takes a little longer to alert him, and when he looks at it, it reads "You know where to find me. RT"

"You need to stop her from doing this. She's embarrassing us." Donovan told Lestrade after the conference.

"If you could tell me how she does this, maybe we can stop her from doing it," responded Lestrade

In Russell Square Park, we now follow a limping John. Soon, he walks past a man that recognizes him. The man soon calls out, "John! John Watson!"

John soon turns back to sit next to see Mike as he stands up and hurries towards him, smiling.

Mike proceeds to reintroduce himself, "Stamford. Mike Stamford. We were at Bart's together."

John, who clearly did not recognize him at first, says, "Yes, sorry, yes, Mike." while he takes Mike's hand and shakes it, "Hello, hi."

Mike grins and gestures to himself, "Yeah, I know. I got fat!"

John trying to sound convincing says, "No."

Mike proceeds to say, "I heard you were abroad somewhere, getting shot at. What happened?"

John awkwardly responds, "I got shot."

A little later, after getting coffee, Mike looks at John, worrying about him. John, completely oblivious to his concern, looks across to his old friend, asking "Are you still at Bart's, then?"

Mike responds, Teaching now. Bright young things, like we used to be. God, I hate them!" They both laugh at this.

Mike then asks, "What about you? Just staying in town 'til you get yourself sorted?"

John then replies, "I can't afford London on an Army pension."

Mike then comments, "Ah, and you couldn't bear to be anywhere else. That's not the John Watson I know."

John uncomfortably replies, "Yeah, I'm not the John Watson..." trailing off.

Mike awkwardly looks away as John clenches his fist to control his tremor in his left hand.

Mike then asks, "Couldn't Harry help?"

John sarcastically replies, "Yeah, like that's gonna happen!"

Mike shrugs at this, "I dunno - get a flatshare or something."

John thinks, then replies, "Come on - who'd want me for a flatmate?"

Mike chuckles.

Puzzled, John asks, "What?"

Mike then replies, "Well, you're the second person to say that to me today."

John then asks, "Who was the first?"

In Saint Bartholomew's Hospital Morgue, a very different Rose Tyler was unzipping a body bag lying on the table, looks at it, and proceeds to ask, "How fresh?"

Molly soon walks into the room, responding, "Just in. Sixty-seven died of natural causes. He used to work here, I knew him. He was nice."

Zipping up the bag again, Rose straightens up, then smiles falsely at her, "We'll starting with the riding crop"

Shortly after the body has been removed, Molly watches and flinches as Rose methodically whips the body with a riding crop, and soon walks back into the room as she finishes and straightens up, breathless, she goes over to her, asking jokingly, "So, bad day, was it?"

"Not bad at all," Rose muttered, "Listen, I need you to list the bruises that form in the next 24 hours. A man's alibi depends on it. Text me."

Molly, trying to be a friend, asks, "Listen, I was wondering whether when you're finished..."

Rose looks at her, "Are you wearing lipstick? You weren't wearing lipstick before. Are you going on a date?"

Molly nervously smiles, "I, err, I refreshed it a bit." avoiding the 2nd question entirely.

Molly then tries to extend her offer again, "I was wondering, whether you'd like to have some coffee."

Rose proceeds to answer, "I'd like it with cream and two sugar. I will be upstairs."

"Okay." Molly said

Later, in Bart's Lab, Rose is standing at the far end of the lab, squeezing a few drops of liquid onto a Petri dish. Mike knocks on the door and brings John in with him. Rose only spares a glance before returning to work. John limps into the room, looking around at all the equipment, and then comments, "Well, a bit different from my day."

Mike chuckles at this, replying, "You've no idea!"

Rose then proceeds to sit down, asking "Mike, can I borrow your phone? There's no signal on mine."

Mike then asks, "And what's wrong with the landline?"

Rose responds, "I prefer to text. It's more convenient"

Mike then answers, "Sorry. It's in my coat."

John then proceeds to fish his phone out of his back pocket, then says, "Err, here. Use mine."

Rose says, "Oh. Thank you."

Glancing back at Mike, she stands up and walks towards John while Mike introduces him. "It's an old friend of mine, John Watson."

Rose then takes the phone out of John's hand, opens the keypad, and then proceeds to type on it. She then asks, "Afghanistan or Iraq?"

John frowns at this, while Mike smiles knowingly. John looks at Rose, then asks, "Sorry?"

Rose repeats the question, "Which one was it - Afghanistan or Iraq?"

John hesitates, then looks to Mike for answers, while Mike only smiles smugly.

He then replies, "Afghanistan. Sorry, how did you know...?"

Molly soon appears back in the room with coffee.

Rose, noticing this, says "Ah, Molly. Thank you for the coffee." shutting off John's phone and handing it back while Molly brings the mugs of coffee to her.

Soon after giving the coffee, Molly leaves the room. Rose then grimaces at the taste of the coffee. Rose then asks, "How do you feel about the violin?"

John then looks at Molly, but she's on her way out the door. He glances at Mike for answers, yet he's still smiling smugly, then realizes Rose is talking to him.

John, not knowing how to reply to this, and proceeds to ask, "I'm sorry, what?"

Rose while typing on a laptop says, "I play the violin sometimes when I'm thinking. Sometimes I don't talk for days. Would that bother you? Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other." She then flashes that same fake smile at John, who still is utterly confused.

John then asks Mike, "Oh, you … you told her about me?"

Mike then replies, "Not a word."

John then asks again, "Then who said anything about flatmates?"

Rose picks up her jacket, putting it on, "I did. Told Mike this morning that I must be a difficult girl to find a flatmate for. Now here he is just after lunch with an old friend, just returning from military service in Afghanistan. Wasn't too hard to guess."

John still perplexed about the whole situation, says, "How did you know about Afghanistan?"

Ignoring the question, Rose picks up her phone and checks it, then says to John, "I found a nice place in central London. We should be able to afford it if we pool our money together."

She then pauses, as she sees John is still confused why she was talking about flats, before realizing she's gotten ahead of herself. "Sorry, I forgot to properly introduce myself. My name's Rose Tyler. And the address we will be meeting at is 221 Baker Street. We should be meeting at around seven o'clock." 

Putting the phone into her pockets, she again starts to walk to the door. John then asks, turning to look at her, "Is that it?" John asks.

Rose then stops and asks, "Is that what?"

John proceeds to respond, "We've only just met and we're gonna go and look at a flat?"

Rose then says, "Problem?"

John smiles in disbelief, hoping Mike can help him, but Mike is smiling just as he was before, not saying a single word. John then turns back to respond to the younger-looking lady. "We don't know a thing about each other."

Rose then eyes him closely, before speaking, "I know you're an Army doctor and you've been sent home after being shot. I know you've got a brother who's worried about you but you won't go to him for help because you don't like him, maybe because he's a drinker, more likely because he recently broke up with his wife. And I know that your therapist thinks your limp's psychosomatic - quite correctly, I'm afraid."

John shuffles his feet awkwardly.

Rose, smug with victory, proceeds to say, "That's enough to know who you are, don't you think?"

Grinning and winking at John, then look around at Mike, saying, "Afternoon," before leaving the room.

Mike raises a finger in farewell as Rose disappears from the room. As the door slams shut behind her, John turns and looks at Mike in disbelief. Mike smiles then nods to him, finally saying, "Yeah. She's always like that."

Later, John is back at his flat, and takes out his phone only to read one of the messages saying:

**If brother has green ladder,**

**arrest brother.**

**RT**

Puzzled, he looks at the message, trying to decipher its meaning, before finally giving up and limping toward his laptop on a nearby table.

Shortly after, he searches on a website called Quest and searches Rose Tyler into the search box. Finding out she was the daughter of Pete Tyler, the CEO and Founder of the famous Vitex drinks company, and sister to Tony Tyler, a prominent figure of Torchwood. Even with that, he can't find much more about her other than a simple website called, "The Science of Deduction".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last edited: 10/11/2020


	2. A Study in Pink: A Familiar Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very familiar meeting at 221B Baker Street, and a familiar crime scene.

The next day, John limps along the road and reaches the door marked 221B just as a black cab pulls up at the curb behind him. John knocks on the door as Rose gets out of the cab. "Hello", greets Rose. She reaches in through the window of the cab, handing the money to the driver.

"Thank you", Rose says to the driver.

John then proceeds to walk over to her, and says, "Ah, Ms. Tyler".

"Rose, please. Ms. Tyler makes me sound old"

They shake hands.

John then proceeds to comment, "Well this is a prime spot. Must be expensive."

Rose then proceeds to answer, "Not really. Mrs. Hudson, the landlady, she's giving me a special deal. She says it's because she owes me a favor, though she doesn't really ow me anything. A few years back, her husband got himself sentenced to death in Florida. I was able to help out."

John then asks, puzzled at the wording, "Sorry - you stopped her husband being executed?"

"Oh no, I ensured it" Rose corrects.

She smiles at John as the front door is opened, who opens her arms to the younger lady. Hugging her while saying, "Hello darling."

Rose hugs her back for a bit, before turning and walking back to John. "Mrs. Hudson, Doctor John Watson." she introduces.

"Hello." Mrs. Hudson says to John.

John replies, "How to do?"

Mrs. Hudson gestures John to come inside, saying "Come in."

"Thank you," John says to Mrs. Hudson

The three then proceed to walk up the stairs and into the flat, and John soon hobbles into the room, eyeing the boxed possession in the living room and the kitchen, before saying, "Well, this could be very nice. Very nice indeed."

Rose then says, "Yes, it definitely is a nice place." looking around happily, before saying, "So I went straight ahead and moved in."

John simultaneously says, "Soon as we get all this rubbish cleaned out...oh"

He pauses, embarrassed, when he realizes what Rose was saying, then proceeds, "So this is all..."

"Well, I probably could straighten things up a bit," Rose says, making a half-hearted attempt to clean up the area, taking some unopened envelopes and stabbing it onto the mantelpiece on the fireplace, before John notices something peculiar on the mantelpiece, and lifts his cane to point at it.

"That's a hand", John comments.

"Used to be a friend of mine...", Rose says, full of sadness, trailing off before being interrupted.

"What do you think, then, Doctor Watson? There's another bedroom upstairs if you'll be needing two bedrooms."

"Of course we'll be needing two," John replies.

"Oh don't worry, there are all sorts around here, Mrs. Turner next door's got married ones."

John then proceeds to look at Rose, looking for back up, trying to get her to help convince Mrs. Hudson they aren't romantically involved. Rose was completely oblivious to this interaction, too focused on her phone. 

"Oh, Rose. The mess you've made." Mrs. Hudson says, chastising Rose.

She then proceeds to start tidying up the place, and John makes his way to one of the armchairs, plopping himself onto it. He then looks at Rose, who is still focused on her phone. 

"I looked you up on the internet last night," John says, trying to start a conversation.

Rose then turns off her phone, turning to him, asking, "Anything interesting?"

John then replies, "Found your website, The Science of Deduction, and your father."

Rose asks, "What did you think?"

John, confused, asks, "About what?"

Rose continues, saying, "About the website"

John makes an expression that says, "You have got to be kidding me", and this caused Rose to be offended.

"You said you could identify a software designer by his tie, and an airline pilot by his left thumb," John states, still in disbelief,

"Yes; and I can read your military career in your face and your leg and your brother's drinking habits in your mobile phone," Rose says.

"How?" John says, still very puzzled.

Smiling a genuine smile, Rose turns away as Mrs. Hudson comes out of the kitchen reading a newspaper.

"What about these suicides then, Rose? I thought that'd be right up your street. Three the same."

Rose looks over the window as the sound of a car pulling up outside can be heard.

"Four" Rose says as she looks down and sees someone get out of the car. The vehicle is clearly a police car with its lights flashing on the roof.

"There's been a fourth. And there's something different about it."

"A fourth?" Mrs. Hudson asks.

Rose then turns to meet D.I. Lestrade, who barges through the door.

"Where" Rose immediately questions.

"Brixton, Lauriston Gardens," Lestrade responds.

"What's new about this one. You probably wouldn't have come to me if there wasn't something different."

"You know how they never leave notes?"

"Yeah."

"This one did. Will you come?"

"Who's on forensics?" Rose proceeds to ask.

"It's Anderson," Lestrade replies.

Grimacing, Rose proceeds to sneer, "Anderson. Does it have to be Anderson?"

"Well, he won't be your assistant" Lestrade shoots back.

"I need an assistant." Rose quickly responds.

"Will you come?" Lestrade asks again.

"Not in a police car. I'll be right behind."

"Thank you," Lestrade says as he proceeds to hurry away from the flat as quickly as possible.

Rose waits for him to get out of the building, before leaping and twirling, while exclaiming, "It's my lucky day. Another puzzle and more running." like a child when they received their birthday presents.

Picking up her phone she placed down earlier, putting it in her coat, and then heads to the door, passing the kitchen.

"Mrs. Hudson, I'll probably be back later tonight, and I will need some food when I come back."

"I'm your landlady, dear, not your housekeeper" Mrs. Hudson responded.

"Something cold will do. John, have a cup of tea, make yourself at home!"

She then proceeds to open the door and head out of the room.

"Look at her, dashing about! My husband was just the same." Mrs. Hudson comments.

John grimaces at her misinformed implication that he and Rose are a pair.

"But you're more the sitting-down type, I can tell."

John shifts uncomfortably.

"I'll make you that cuppa. You rest your leg."

"Damn my leg!" John shouts, before realizing that he wasn't the only occupant of the room.

"Sorry, I'm so sorry. It's just this bloody thing..." bashing his leg with his cane.

"I understand, dear; I've got a hip" Mrs. Hudson responds.

She then turns towards the door again.

"Cup of tea would be lovely, thank you," John says.

"Just this once dear. I'm not your housekeeper." Mrs. Hudson responds

"Couple of biscuits too, if you've got 'em." 

"Not your housekeeper!" Mrs. Hudson repeats.

John then picks up a newspaper article about a previous suicide and finds the man who previously arrived to inform Rose of the fourth suicide was D.I. Lestrade. Before he can finish, Rose interrupts his though after she sprints back into the room.

"You're a doctor. Not just any doctor, you're an Army doctor." Rose states.

"Yes," John answers, not knowing where this is going.

"Were you any good?" Rose asks.

"Very good," John replies.

"Probably seen lots of injuries then, and violent deaths," Rose says.

"Mmm, yes," John says.

"Seen a bit of trouble too, I bet," Rose says.

"Of course, yes. Enough for a lifetime. Far too much." John quietly says, trying to convince himself not to join her on the trip.

"Wanna see some more?" Rose offers.

"Oh God, yes," John said, no longer able to convince himself not to join in the action.

John then follows Rose as she walks out of the room. John calls out as he follows her, "Sorry, Mrs. Hudson, I'll skip the tea. Off out." 

"Both of you?" Mrs. Hudson questions.

Rose reached the door before turning and saying, "There are four suicides, now is not the time to be sitting around." 

"Look at you, all happy. It's not decent." Mrs. Hudson says.

"Who says I'm happy about the suicides?" Rose says as she heads to the door, exiting the flat.

"Taxi!" Rose shouts, as a taxi pulls up alongside and she and John get in, then the car proceeds to drive to Brixton. They sit in silence while Rose was busy on her phone. Finally, Rose turns her phone off, pocketing it.

"Okay, you've got questions" Rose states.

"Yeah, where are we going?" John asks.

"Crime scene. Next?" Rose answers.

"Who are you? What do you do?" John asks.

"Tell me what do you think I do," Rose says.

"I'd say private detective," John says hesitantly

"But?" Rose says, detecting his hesitantly.

"But the police don't go to private detectives." John states.

"I'm a consulting detective. The only one in the world, as I created the job myself." Rose answers proudly.

"The police don't consult amateur's," John says.

Rose throws him a sharp glare.

"When I met you yesterday, I said "Afghanistan or Iraq". You looked surprised." Rose starts.

"Yes, how did you know?" John asked.

"I didn't know, I observed. Your haircut and your posture say the military. But when you entered the lab, you started with, "Bit different from my day." This tells me you were trained at Bart's, so you had to be an Army doctor. Your face is tanned, but no tan beyond the wrists. You've been abroad, but not sunbathing. You're limping pretty badly when you walk, but you never asked for a chair while you stood, like you've forgotten about it, so it's at least partly psychosomatic. That says the original circumstances of the injury were traumatic. Wounded in action and the suntan must mean Afghanistan or Iraq." she says

"You said I had a therapist," John says.

"Of course you have a therapist with your psychosomatic limp. Then there's your brother."

"Hmm?"

"Your phone. It's expensive, e-mail enabled, MP3 player, but you're looking for a flatshare - you wouldn't waste money on this. It's a gift then." she says, as John puts his phone into her hands.

"Scratches. Not just one, but many. It's been in the same pocket as keys and coins. You obviously wouldn't treat such a luxury item like this, so it had to be owned by a previous person. The next part is easy. You know it already."

"The engraving," John says.

"Harry Watson: clearly someone in your family who's given you his old phone. It can't be your father, as he would be too old to own such a gadget. Could be a cousin, but as you are a war hero who can't find a place to live, that is unlikely, so it has to be a brother. Now Clara. Who's Clara? The three kisses say it's a romantic attachment. The expense of the phone says wife, not a girlfriend. She must have  
given it to him recently, as this model is only 6 months old. Marriage in trouble then - six months and he's already giving it away. People are sentimental, and usually, if their partner walks out on them, they keep such possessions, but since he gave it to you, that means he wanted to get rid of it. He left her obviously. Giving you his phone means that he wants you to stay in touch. You're looking for cheap accommodation, but you're not going to your brother for help, which says that you've got problems with him. Maybe you liked his wife, or you don't like his drinking."

"How can you possibly know about the drinking?" John asks.

Rose smiles, then proceeds, "A good guess. The port has tiny little scuff marks around the edge of it. This means that every night the owner goes to plug it in to charge, their hands most likely are shaking. You rarely see those marks on a sober man's phone, but you never see a drunk man's without them." She then hands the phone back to John.

"There you go. Now that I think about it, you're probably right."

"I was right? Right about what?" John asks, confused.

"The police don't consult amateurs."

She then nervously looks at the window, trying to gauge John's reaction from the reflection.

"That...was amazing," John says in awe.

Surprised, Rose looked at him, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. After a few seconds, she gets her act together, and then asks, "Really?"

"Of course it was. It was extraordinary; it was quite extraordinary." John says

"That's not what people usually say," Rose explains.

"What do people normally say?" asked John, running a few possibilities in his head.

"Piss off!" Rose says, grinning at John before turning away to look out of the window.

Soon, the cab arrived at Lauriston Gardens, and Rose and John soon walked out of the cab and towards the police tape.

"Did I get anything wrong?" Rose nervously asked.

"Harry and I don't get on, never have. Clara and Harry split up three months ago and they're getting a divorce; and Harry is a drinker.

"That's surprising. I usually don't get everything right." Rose says, feeling quite impressed at herself.

"And Harry's short for Harriet," John says.

Rose stops dead in her tracks, repeating, "Harry's your sister."

John continues, asking, "Look, what exactly am I supposed to be doing here?"

Rose then proceeded to try and identify what she could've missed led to such a mistake, before giving up.

"No seriously, what am I doing here?" Asked John.

Ignoring his question, she started walking again, muttering, "There's always something."

Soon, they're met by Sergeant Donovan as they approach the tape.

"Hello, freak." Donovan greeted, disgustedly.

"I'm here to see Detective Inspector Lestrade," Rose stated.

"Why?" Donovan asks.

"He invited me here," Rose said in an annoyed tone.

"Why?" Donovan asked yet again.

"Maybe he wants me to take a look." Rose sarcastically told her.

"Well, you know what I think, don't you?" Donovan says.

"Yep. And I even know that you were at a friend's house last night" Rose smugly says, then mock coughing into her arm, as she passes the tapes.

"I don't...Er, who's this?" Donovan asked.

"Friend of mine, Doctor Watson." She turns to John.

"Doctor Watson, Sergeant Sally Donovan. You could say an old friend." She sneers.

"A friend? How did you get a friend?! What, did she follow you home?" Donovan says as she questions John.

John, trying to cut down the tension, asks "Would it be better if I just waited and …"

"No." Rose interrupts.

"Freak's here. Bringing her in." Donovan says into the radio.

She leads the pair toward the house. As they reach the pavement, a man dressed in coverall comes out of the house.

"Ah, Anderson. We meet again." Rose says.

Anderson distastefully looks at her.

"It's a crime scene. I don't want it contaminated. Are we clear on that?" Anderson says.

"No need to state the obvious. And is your wife away for long?" Rose asked.

"Oh don't pretend you worked that out. Somebody told you that." Anderson said.

"Your faint trace of deodorant told me that," Rose said.

"My deodorant?" Anderson asked.

"It's for men," Rose stated.

"Well of course it's for men! I'm wearing it!" Anderson retorted.

"So's Sergeant Donovan." Rose cheekily told him.

Shocked, Anderson looks at Donovan, and Rose smirks at them.

"Oh, I think it may have gotten blown away. May I please go in?"

"Now look: whatever you're trying to imply..." Anderson starts, trying to defend himself.

"I'm not trying to imply anything," Rose cheekily said as she passes Donovan and heads to the front door.

"I'm sure Sally came round for a nice chat over tea and stayed over for the night." She continues

"And I assume she helped scrub your floors, as her knees are quite bruised."

Anderson and Donovan stare at her in horror, while Rose was just smiling. John then passes Donovan, and while doing so, inspects her knees, before following Rose inside. Rose then leads him into a room on the ground floor, where Lestrade is putting on a coverall.

Rose points to a pile of similar items, and tells John, "You need to wear one of these."

"Who's this?" Lestrade asks.

"He's with me." Rose states.

"But who is he?" Lestrade presses

"John Watson, a friend I made," Rose told Lestrade.

John starts putting on the coverall, and then asks Rose, "Aren't you gonna put one on?"

"They look quite silly on me. Just bending the rules," Rose replied

"So where is the scene?" Rose asks.

"Upstairs," Lestrade states as he picks up a pair of latex gloves.

Lestrade then leads the pair up the staircase. He and John are wearing coveralls with white cotton coverings over their shoes and latex gloves. Rose is putting on latex gloves as they go up the stairs.

"I can give you two minutes," says Lestrade as they approach the crime scene.

"May need longer" responds Rose.

"Her name's Jennifer Wilson according to her credit cards. We're running them now for contact details. Hasn't been here long. Some kids found her."

Rose grimaces, before looking back at the overly pink women. She feels sadness for her, before pushing it down and getting to work, silently analyzing her. John's face also fills with pain and sadness for the dead. They stood silently for several long seconds until Rose looks to Lestrade.

"Stop making that face." she saying to the inspector as she gets a look at his face, startling the Detective Inspector.

"What face?" says Lestrade

"Your face was scrunched up hard, you're only going to give yourself wrinkles, Lestrade."

Soon, Rose stepped forward until she reached the side of the corpse. She immediately flicks toward the word scratched by the women, "Rache". She then looked at the fingernails where the index and middle nails are broken and ragged at the end, the nail polish chipped in stark comparison to her other nails which are still immaculate. The women's index finger rests at the bottom of the 'e' as  
if she was still trying to carve into the floor when she died. Rose immediately deduced that the woman was left-handed, before focusing back on the word "Rache. She thinks it could be German for revenge but immediately disposes of the theory, as this woman doesn't appear to be from abroad. She then rapidly runs through a list of words that could've finished the 4 letters, and quickly arrives at the most likely one. "Rachel". She then runs her gloved hands along the back of her coat and notices that the coat is clearly wet. She then reaches into her coat pockets and finds a white folding umbrella, however, when running her fingers along the folds, she finds out it is dry. Putting the umbrella back into her pocket, she concludes that the place she came from must have been rainy and too windy for the umbrella. Checking her collar to confirm this theory, she finds the collar is wet. Reaching into her pocket for a magnifier, she then proceeds to inspect the jewelry, finding that all the jewelry except her wedding ring was clean. Taking the wedding ring off to inspect the inside, she finds it's clean, confirming her theory that this woman was not only married but unhappily married, probably for 10 years judging by the age of the ring. She commonly takes off the ring, which polishes the inside, which means she's probably a serial adulterer. She frowns at this, before continuing her analysis of the woman, noticing the splash patterns on her legs, and concludes she must have been dragging a small suitcase along with her.

Lestrade then sees this, and asks, "Got anything?"

Rose humbly answered, "Not much."

She then proceeds to take off her gloves and pockets them before reaching for her mobile and begins typing on it, looking for windy locations that rained recently.

Anderson then casually leans against the doorway, proclaiming, "She's German. 'Rache': it's German for 'revenge'. She could be trying to  
tell us something."

"Fantastic" Rose muttered.

"Sorry, what did you say?" Anderson asks, not exactly comprehending what Rose just said .

"Fantastic impression of an idiot," Rose shouts, slamming the door on him while finishing up her weather search.

"So I take it she's not German" Lestrade states.

"Of course she's not. She is however from out of town though. Probably intended to stay in London for one night." she says. "before returning home to Cardiff." pocketing her phone. "So, are you following?"

"Sorry, could you explain that please?" John asks.

"What about the message, though?" Lestrade asks, completely ignoring John.

"Doctor Watson, what do you think?" Rose asked.

"Of the message?" John asked.

"Of the body. You're a doctor." Rose states.

"Wait, no, we have a whole team right outside," Lestrade says.

"They won't work with me," Rose says.

"I'm breaking every rule letting you in here" states Lestrade

"Yes...because you need me." Rose reminded Lestrade.

Lestrade helplessly stares into the distance, saying, "Yes I do. God help me."

"Doctor Watson," Rose said

"Hm?" John queried.

He looks up at the body, before looking at Lestrade, silently asking for permission.

"Oh, do as she says. Help yourself." Lestrade says to John, before making his way outside. "Anderson, keep everyone out for a couple of minutes." continued Lestrade.

Rose and John walked to the body, Rose squats down on one side while John painfully leaned on one knee and a cane to support himself.

"Well?"

"What am I doing here?" John asked.

"Keeping me company, and helping me out," Rose stated

"I'm supposed to be helping you pay the rent." John starts.

"Yeah, well, if you really want, you can head back to your life of beans on toast."

"What? Where did beans on toast come from?"

"Just give me your analysis, John," Rose exasterbated

John analyzes her for a bit, before carefully saying, "Yeah...Asphyxiation, probably. Passed out, choked on her own vomit. Can't smell any alcohol on her. It could have been a seizure; possibly drugs."

"Have you read the papers. You would know what this is if you had."

"What, she's one of the suicides? The fourth....?"

Lestrade interrupts, "Rose - two minutes, I said. I need anything you've got."

Rose standing up, offering John her hand. John reluctantly takes it, and once John gets on his feet, Rose proceeds. "Victim is in her late thirties. She's a professional person, most likely part of the media, going by the color-coordinated clothing, and the disgusting shade of pink. She came from Cardiff today, judging by the weather, coat, and umbrella, and intended to stay in London for one night. It's obvious by the size of her suitcase that should be here somewhere."

"Suitcase?" Lestrade asked.

"Of course there was a suitcase. Don't you see the splash patterns on the back of her leg, those can only be formed by a suitcase. She's been married at least ten years, but obviously, it's not a happy marriage, judging by the string of lovers she had."

"If you're just making this up..."

"If you didn't interrupt me, I would've explained it all. Her wedding ring told me that she's unhappily married. It's ten years old, with a dirty outside and a clean inside. This tells me the marriage is unhappy, and she takes her ring off all the time. It's obviously not for work, as she obviously polishes her nails. She clearly has more than one lover, as she works in the media, arriving at many different areas, so she has a string of them."

"That's brilliant," John said, admiring the thought process.

Rose looked at him.

"Sorry." John apologized.

"Cardiff?" Lestrade asked.

"Didn't I mention earlier why it had to be Cardiff??"

"I didn't really follow," John said.

"Ok then, let me repeat myself. I got Cardiff based on her dry umbrella and wet coat. The wet coat tells me it rained, the dry umbrella tells me that it was too windy to use it. Now since her suitcase must be relatively compact in size, that tells us she wasn't planning on staying for too long, maybe  
only for a night, so it must be far enough to require a spare set of clothes. As her coat hasn't dried yet, we can deduce that she has only traveled for 2 to 3 hours. So where within 2 to 3 hours away from here has there been heavy rain and wind. Cardiff."

"That's fantastic!" John exclaims.

"You know, my ego doesn't need to be stroked more." Rose asked.

"Sorry. I'll shut up." John said

"No, it's...fine."

"Okay, you keep on saying suitcase..." Lestrade asked.

"About that, I haven't seen a suitcase while passing by. Not only that, she must have had a phone or an organizer. And finally, find out who Rachel is." Rose said

"She was writing 'Rachel'?" Lestrade asked.

"Of course she was writing Rachel, it's the most likely usage of the letters "Rache" in that order when you're not German. Now the better question is why did she wait until she was dying to write it. And where's the suitcase?"

A stunned Lestrade responded, "There wasn't a case."

"What?" 

"There wasn't a case. There was never any suitcase," repeated Lestrade.

Putting two and two together, Rose quickly rushed out of the room, and just to confirm her theory, shouted, "Did anyone see a suitcase? Anyone?"

"Rose, there was no case!" shouted Lestrade.

"But they all swallow the same type of poison, with all the same symptoms and cause of death," Rose said.

"Right, yeah, thanks! And..." Lestrade gestured for Rose to continue.

"It has to be murder, all of them. All of them dying to the same symptoms as too much of a coincidence. It has to be killings, serial killings."

Realization dawned Rose, and then she continued, "We've got a serial killer."

"Why are you saying that?" Asked a confused Lestrade.

"Seriously though, where's her case. You've been avoiding the question for so long. The case couldn't just fly itself away or disappear, now could it. Unless someone took her case. The killer must have driven her here; and forgot the case was in the car."

"She could've checked into a hotel, left her case there." reasoned John

"No, that wouldn't make any sense. Look at that hair. Such a disgraceful mess, yet she color-coordinates her lipstick, shoes, and clothing. I doubt she would leave the hotel with that kind of hair. I know I wouldn't, or at least, I wouldn't in the past." said Rose, as she gets quieter on the last sentence. 

"Oh," Rose said, with little evidence of her previous sadness.

"Rose?" John asked in concern.

Rose then started sprinting out of the room, and down the stairs, full of energy.

"What is it, what?" Lestrade confusedly asked.

"It's hard to catch serial killers. Especially the good ones. You have to wait for them to make a mistake." Rose cheerfully explained.

"We can't just wait!" Lestrade exclaimed.

"Oh, the thing is, we don't have to wait. He already has made a mistake." Rose continued explaining. "Go to Cardiff, find Jennifer Wilson's family and friends, and then, find Rachel," shouted Rose

"Of course, but what is the mistake?!" Asked a still confused Lestrade.

"PINK!" Rose enigmatically shouted, before rushing out.

"Let's get on with it" grumbled Anderson as his team follows him into the crime scene.

Forgotten by everyone, John slowly made his way to the landing after climbing down the stairs. A couple more police officers hurry up and one of them bumped into him, throwing him off balance, and almost making him fall. However, he quickly regains balance to see the man's colleague looking at him apologetically as they ran past him. Soon, John removed his coverall and gloves and placed his jacket back on. He walks outside and past the tape, only to see no sign of Rose. Donovan, standing by the tape, sees him.

"She's gone." started Donovan.

"Who, Rose Tyler?" asked John.

"Yeah, she just took off. She does that," said Donovan

"Right," said John.

After looking at the area thoughtfully, he turns to Donovan again.

"Sorry, where am I," John asked.

"Brixton," replied Donovan.

"Right. Err, d'you know where I could get a cab? It's just, err...well...my leg." John explained.

"Err..." said Donovan, lifting the tape for him, "try the main road."

"Thanks," said John.

"But you're not her friend." said Donovan, "She doesn't have friends."

"I'm...I'm nobody. I just met her," said John, contradicting what Rose told Lestrade.

"Okay, a bit of advice then: stay away from that girl," Donovan warned.

"Why?" asked a puzzled John.

"You know why she's here? She's not paid or anything, as her parents are very rich. She likes it. She gets off on it. The weirder the crime, the more she gets off. And you know what? One day just showing up won't be enough. One day we'll be standing around a body and Rose Tyler'll be the one that put it there."

"Why would she do that?" John asked.

"Because she's a psychopath. And psychopaths get bored," explained Donovan.

"Donovan!" called Lestrade from the entrance of the house.

"Coming," responded Donovan.

"Stay away from Rose Tyler," Donovan warned again.

John watched her go for a moment, then turns and begins to limp down the road. Soon, a telephone box to his right begins to ring. He stops and looks at it for a few seconds but then looks down at his watch, shaking his head and continuing down the road. The phone then stopped ringing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last edited: 10/11/2020


	3. A Study in Pink: The Mysterious Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Mysterious Calling of a Mysterious Man

Not long after passing by the ringing telephone box, John heads down Brixton High Road. He tries to hail a passing taxi "Taxi! Taxi..." to no avail. Passing by a fast food restaurant called Chicken Cottage, he notices that a payphone inside is beginning to ring. However, as soon as a staff member walks over to answer it, it stopped ringing. Soon, another payphone near him begins to ring. Mystified by this, he pulls open the door, goes inside, and answers the phone.

"Hello?"

A man begins to speak.

"There is a security camera on the building to your left. Do you see it?"

"Who's this? Who's speaking." asked a frowning John.

"Do you see the camera, Doctor Watson?" asked the man again.

Looking at the CCTV camera high up on the wall of the nearby building, he proceeded to answer. "Yeah, I see it."

"Watch." commanded the man. Soon, the camera begins to turn away.

"There is another camera in the building opposite you. Do you see it?"

"Mm-hm" John replied. The camera then proceeded to turn away in a dramatic fashion

"And finally, at the top of the building on your right." said the man. The third camera proceeded to turn right as he finished his sentence.

"How are you doing this?" John asked.

"Get into the car, Doctor Watson." the man commanded. Right on cue, a black car pulls up right next to John. The driver gets out and opens the rear door.

"I would make some sort of threat, but I'm sure your situation is quite clear to you." said the man.

The phone soon goes dead. John puts it down and thinks for a bit, before leaving the phone box and entering the car. Soon, the car pulls away and drives. There's a young woman that's sitting beside him, her eyes fixed on her BlackBerry while she types on it.

"Hello." John greeted.

"Hi." said the woman.

"What's your name, then," John asked in an attempt to ask her out.

"Err...Anthea." said the woman.

"Is that your real name," asked John.

"No," said the woman, smiling.

John nodded, before looking out the windows and turning back again.

"I'm John," John said, introducing himself.

"Yes. I know," answered Not-Anthea.

"Any point in asking where I'm going?" asked John.

"None at all..." said Not-Anthea.

She turns and smiles at him for a bit, before looking back at her phone. "...John." Not-Anthea finished.

"Okay." said a weirded out John.

Sometime later, the car pulls into an almost-empty warehouse. As he steps out of the car, he notices a brunet in a black suit with an umbrella next standing next to two opposite facing chairs, standing calmly as if this was normal for him, watching as John steps out of the car. Once John walks over to the man, the man starts to say, "Have a seat, John."

John calmly continues toward him, saying, "You know, I've got a phone."

Looking around the warehouse, he continues, "I mean, very clever and all that, but, err...you could just phone me. On my phone."

Soon, he walks straight past the chair and stops a few paces in front of the man. "When one is avoiding the attention of Rose Tyler, one learns to be discreet, hence this place. I may also add this is a much more interesting introduction, isn't it."

"The leg must be hurting you. Sit down." said the man, being a little sterner and commanding toward the end phrases.

"I don't wanna sit down." John shot back.

The man looks at him curiously. "You don't seem very afraid." said the man, thoughtfully. 

"You don't seem very frightening," answered John with steel in his voice.

The man chuckles, before continuing. "Ah, yes. The bravery of the soldier. Bravery is by far the kindest word for stupidity, don't you think?" said the man.

He then looks at John sternly, before interrogating. "What is your connection to Rose Tyler."

"I don't have one, I barely know her. I met her..." John answered, trailing off at the last bit as he realized how little time has passed.

"...yesterday" John finished.

"Mm, and since yesterday you've moved in with her and now you're solving crimes together. Might we expect a happy announcement by the end of the week." the man said.

"Who are you?" John strongly asked.

"An interested party." said the man.

"Interested in Rose? Why? I'm guessing you're not friends." said John

"You've met her. How many 'friends' do you imagine she has. I am the closest thing to a friend that Rose Tyler is still capable of having in her current state." the man cryptically answered.

"And what's that?" John asked, wondering what could this man possibly mean by the current state.

"An enemy." the man calmly asserted.

"An enemy?" John asked, bewildered.

"In her mind, certainly. If you were to ask her directly, she probably says her arch-enemy. She does love to be dramatic, always has been." the man said, looking into the distance, looking a little lost in a bit of memory.

John then looks pointedly around the warehouse. "Well, thank God you're above all that." John sarcastically answered.

The man snaps back into reality, before frowning at John. Just then, John's phone trills a text alert. He proceeds to dig the phone out of his jacket, turning it on before looking at the message received while ignoring the man in front of him. The message reads:

**Baker Street**

**Need your help**

**Hope you can come**

**at once if**

**convenient**

**RT**

"I hope I'm not distracting you." the man interrupted.

"Not distracting me at all." John casually replied.

John then proceeds to pocket the phone.

"Do you plan to continue your association with Rose Tyler?" asked the man.

"I could be wrong, but I think that's none of your business," John replied.

"It could be." the man replied ominously.

"It really couldn't" John shot back

The man then proceeds to pull a notebook from his inner pocket, then opens it and consults it as he speaks.

"If you do move into, um...two hundred and twenty-one B Baker Street, I'd be happy to pay you a meaningful sum of money on a regular basis to ease your way."

He then closes the notebook before pocketing it.

"Why?" asked John.

"Because you're not a wealthy man." answered the man.

"In exchange for what?" asked John

"Information. Nothing indiscreet. Nothing you'd feel...uncomfortable with. Just tell me what she's up to." the man replied.

"Why?" John asked, on guard.

"I worry about her. Constantly." the man genuinely answered.

"That's nice of you." John insincerely said.

"But I would prefer for various reasons that my concern goes unmentioned. We have what you might call a...difficult relationship." replied the man.

Soon, John's phone sounded with a text alert. Again, he fishes it out of his pocket, only to see that it reads:

**If inconvenient,**

**please come anyway**.

**RT**

Pocketing the phone, John replied,

"No."

"But I haven't mentioned a figure." the man calmly said.

"Don't bother," John answered with strength.

The man chuckled briefly, before saying,

"You're very loyal, very quickly."

"No, I'm not. I'm just not interested," replied John.

The man took his notebook out, before opening it. 

"Trust Issues," it says here." the man read off.

Unnerved by how the man was reading notes from his psychotherapist, he begins to ask,

"What's that?"

The man, still looking at his notebook, continued, "Could it be that you've decided to trust Rose Tyler of all people?"

"Who says I trust her?" answered John, starting to go hard.

"You don't seem the kind to make friends easily." the man responded.

"Are we done?" asked John, wanting to get out as soon as possible.

"You tell me." the man answered, raising his head to look into John's eyes.

John looked at him for a long moment, before turning and starts walking away.

"I imagine people have already warned you to stay away from her, but I can see from your left hand that's not going to happen."

Stopping dead in his tracks, shoulders tensing as he angrily shakes his head a little, fully of fury, he turns back to face the man.

"My wot?" gritted John.

"Show me." the man said calmly, unfazed.

The man strolls forward, seeing that John isn't going to willingly come to him. He reaches for John's hand, and John instantly pulls his hand back a little.

"Don't" John said tensely.

The man lowers his head and raises his eyebrows at John. John reluctantly lowers his hand, holding it out flat with the palm down. The man takes it in both of his own hands, inspecting it closely.

"Remarkable." the man answered.

"What is," John said as he snatched his hand away.

Turning away and walking a few paces away, the man started, "Most people blunder around this city, and all they see are streets and shops and cars. When you walk with Rose Tyler, you see the battlefield." walking towards John again. 

"You've seen it already, haven't you." the man continued.

"What's wrong with my hand," John asked, confused.

"You have an intermittent tremor in your left hand." The man replied.

John unintentionally nods his head.

"Your therapist thinks it's post-stress disorder. She thinks you're haunted by memories of your military service." 

Flinching as the man accurately fires off these facts at him. His gaze is fixed ahead of him.

"Who the hell are you? How do you know that?" John angrily said.

Ignoring him, "Fire her. She's got it the wrong way round. You're under stress right now and your hand is perfectly steady."

John stares ahead, struggling to hold back his anger.

"You're not haunted by the war, Doctor Watson. You miss it."

He leans closer to him. Reluctantly, John's eyes rise up to meet his.

"Welcome back." the man whispered.

The man starts to dramatically walk away, casually twirling his umbrella as he goes. John's phone then trills another text alert. The man then said, 

"Time to choose a side, Doctor Watson." 

John stands fixed to the spot for a few seconds, then turns and glances towards the departing man. Meanwhile, behind John, the car door opens and Not-Anthea gets out and walks a few paces towards him, her attention still riveted to the BlackBerry held in front of her in both hands.

"I'm to take you home," Not-Anthea announces.

John half-turns towards her, then stopping just to take his phone out of his pocket to read the new message. It reads:

**Probably will be dangerous**

**RT**

Putting the phone back into his pocket, John holds out his left hand in front of him to confirm the mystery man's analysis and finds that there's no tremor coming from it. He smiles wryly.

"Address?" Not-Anthea asked.

"Err, Baker Street. Two Two one B Baker Street. But I need to stop off somewhere first" John said.

Later, the car John was riding stopped by his old flat. Opening the door, going to his bedsit, and turning on the lamp, he closes the door behind him. He then goes across to the desk and opens the drawer, taking out his pistol. Checking the clip, he tucks the gun into the back of the waistband of his jeans and turns to leave again.

Later again, the car pulls up outside of 221B Baker Street. Not-Anthea is still glued to whatever she's typing on her phone. John looks across to her.

"Listen, your boss - any chance you could not tell him this is where I went?" John asked.

"Sure" Not-Anthea nonchalantly replied.

"You've told him already, haven't you?" John said.

"Yeah," Not-Anthea replied, smiling at him briefly.

John nodded, and in resignation, and turns to get out of the car but just as he has opened the door, he turns back to her.

"Hey, um...do you ever get any free time?" John asked in an attempt to set up a date.

"Oh, yeah. Lots" Not-Anthea sarcastically replied.

John waits expectantly, hoping to be able to set up a date. She continues looking at her phone, glued to it as ever, before allowing her gaze to drift past him to the door of 221B.

"Bye," Not-Anthea said.

"Okay," John said, exiting the car. He then watches as the car pulls away before turning and walking across the pavement to the front door of 221B. He knocks on the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last Edited: 10/11/2020


	4. A Study in Pink: Back At 221B

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John returns to 221B to find Rose lying on a couch, staring at the ceiling with open eyes.

Trekking up the stairs, before opening the door to the living room, John is then greeted by the sight of Rose lying stretched out on the sofa with her head towards the window and resting on a cushion. With her jacket thrown on a nearby table, and her shirt sleeves pulled up, showing 3 nicotine patches. Once she notices John has entered the room, her eyes snap open, staring fixed at the ceiling. 

"What are you doing?" John proceeds to ask.

"Nicotine patch. Helps me think." Rose responded, leaving out the part where it's also there to prevent relapses.

She lifts her right hand to show that she had three round nicotine patches stuck on his arm, pressing them into her skin to release nicotine quicker.

"Impossible to smoke in London these days." Rose says

"It's good news for breathing." John retorted.

"Oh, breathing. Breathing's boring." Rose dismissively says.

Frowning as he looks at the 3 patches on her arm, before starting,

"Are those three patches?" asked a concerned John.

"Yes, it is John. These are three patches" responded Rose.

"Well?" asked John, still wondering why she called him over.

"You asked me to come. I'm assuming it's important." John continued.

Rose thinks for a bit, before answering,

"Oh, yeah, of course. I was wondering if I could borrow your phone."

"My phone?" asked John, bewildered she would ask him to go so far just to bring a phone.

"Don't want to use mine. It almost certainly will be recognized. It's on the website." answered Rose.

"Mrs. Hudson's got a phone." retorted John.

"Yeah, she's downstairs. I tried shouting but she didn't hear, and I suspect she isn't in the building," responded Rose.

"I was on the other side of London," John said, flaring with anger.

"Well, I never said you had to hurry over here, now did I." Rose retorted.

John glares at her for a moment, before digging his phone out of his pocket, holding it towards her.

"Here," John said.

Rose proceeds to look at the phone, before reaching over and grabbing it.

John then paces a bit, before turning and asking,

"So what's this about - the case?"

"Her case," Rose responded.

"Her case?" John asked, not seeing what she was talking about.

"Her suitcase, obviously. The murderer took her suitcase. That's their first mistake." Rose explained.

"Okay, he took her case. So?" John said.

Just after a few seconds of thought, Rose then told John,

"On my desk, there's a number. I want you to send the text."

"You brought me here...to send a text." John angrily said in disbelief.

"Of course. Once we're done with this, we can then get to the interesting part." Rose said, trying to relieve some of his anger. Of course, this did little to relieve it.

John then walks over to the window and looks out into the street. Rose notices this, before asking,

"What's wrong?"

"Just met a friend of yours," John answered.

Frowning in confusion, tensing up, before asking,

"A friend?"

"An enemy," John answered.

At this revelation, Rose immediately relaxes, as she didn't quite have any friends other than maybe John.

"Which one?" Rose asked, trying to confirm her theory of who it is.

"Your arch-enemy, according to him." John then proceeds to turn to her, before continuing, "Do people have arch-enemies?"

Looking at him, eyeing him suspiciously, before asking,

"Did he offer you money to spy on me?"

"Yes," John replied.

"Did you take it?" she asked.

"No," John responded.

"That's a shame. We could've split the fee. Take it next time." she replied.

"Who is he."

"The most dangerous man you've ever met, and not my problem at the moment. On my desk, the number," Rose said.

John gives her a dark look, but Rose has already looked away, so John proceeds to walk over to the desk and picks up a piece of paper taken from a luggage label. He looks at the name on the paper.  
"Jennifer Wilson. That was...Hang on. Wasn't that the dead woman?"

"Yes. Though right now, I was hoping you would focus on the task at hand." Rose responded.

Shaking his head, John gets his phone out and starts typing the number onto it.

Not long after he finishes typing the number, Rose asked,

"Are you done yet?"

"I am," John replied.

"Now onto the next part. Text these words exactly as-is: "What happened at Lauriston Gardens? I must have blacked out." commanded Rose.

John starts to type it out, not thinking too hard on the words.

"Twenty-two Northumberland Street. Please come." Rose continued.

John starts typing, before noticing the specific word choice.

"You blacked out?" asked John

"What? No. No!" shouted Rose, before getting off the couch, walking over to the kitchen. 

"Have you sent it?" Rose impatiently asked.

"What's the address?" John asked.

"Twenty-two Northumberland Street. Hurry up!" Rose said.

As John finishes and sends the message, Rose takes a pink case from under the table, placing it there before opening it up, revealing the contents. She briefly looks at the clothing, all varying shades of pink, grimacing, and murmuring, "How could I stand ever stand that color?", before continuing to analyze the washbag and a paperback novel entitled, "Come to Bed Eye." As John turns towards the case after finishing up his text, he then staggers a bit before realizing what he's looking at.

"That's...that's the pink lady's case. That's Jennifer Wilson's case." John stated.

"Yes, obviously with the disgusting shade of pink," Rose responded.

John continues to stare. Rose notices this before rolling her eyes.

"Oh, perhaps I should add: I didn't kill her." Rose sarcastically told him.

"I never said you did," John replied.

"Why wouldn't you? Given the text, I told you to send and the fact I have her case, it would be a perfectly sound conclusion." Rose explained

"Do people usually assume you're the murderer?" asked John

"Now and then they do," Rose replied.

"Okay..." John said, trailing off.

Soon, Rose walks back to the armchair, sitting in it before entering deep thought. John proceeds to limp toward the other armchair, dropping into the armchair across from her.

"How did you get this?" John asked.

"By looking around." Rose answered.

"Where?" John asked, still confused.

"The killer must have driven her to Lauriston Gardens. He could only keep her case by accident if it was in the car.

The case couldn't be seen without drawing attention to the man. It's most likely a man, as men are statically more likely to be serial killers.

So obviously the man would be compelled to get rid of the case once he noticed it. It wouldn't have taken him more than 5 minutes to notice his mistake.

Knowing this, I checked every back street wide enough for a car five minutes from Lauriston Gardens, and anywhere you could dispose of a bulky object without being seen.

It took me less than an hour to find it." Rose explained.

"Pink. You got all that because you realized the case would be pink?" John bewilderedly said.

"Well, it had to be pink, as this woman color-coded everything," Rose said.

"Why didn't I think of that?" John asked himself out loud.

"Because you only see things around you, but don't observe them." Rose said.

John looked at her. 

Pointing her index finger at the case, Rose proceeded to ask John,

"Now, look. Do you see what's missing?" 

"From the case? How could I?" John said.

"Her phone. Where's her mobile phone? There wasn't a phone on the body, nor is it in the case. She had one since there's a number on the suitcase." Rose said.

"Maybe she left it at home," John supplied.

Rose reasoned,

"She has a string of lovers and she hasn't been caught by anyone yet. She would never leave her phone at home." 

"Err..." John said, slowly putting two and two together, and realizing he sent a text to the missing cell phone, before asking,

"Why did I just send that text?" 

"Well, the obvious question would be where is her phone now?" Rose said.

"She could have lost it," John supplied.

"Yes, that's possible but more likely..." Rose said, trying to lead him.

"The murderer..." John said slowly. "You think the murderer has the phone?"

"Maybe she left it when she left her case. Or he took it from her for some reason. Either way, the most likely scenario is that the murderer has the phone." Rose reasoned.

As if on cue, John's phone begins to ring. He picks it up and looks at the screen for the Caller I.D, before looking back at Rose.

"Only a few hours after his last victim, and now he receives a text that can only be from her. A random person finding the phone would've ignored the text, the murderer though..."

Pausing dramatically until the phone stops ringing.

"...would panic." 

Rose then walks over to the suitcase, closing it before going to pick up her jacket from the table. John continues to stare at his phone, just as Rose is putting on her jacket and walking towards the door.

"Have you talked to the police?" John asked, finally looking up.

"Four people are dead, you've seen how much they've done so far. There isn't time to talk to the police." Rose told John.

"So why are you talking to me?" John asked.

"You're the only good company I've had in a while now, and Mrs. Hudson took my skull," Rose said.

"Wait, you have a skull. Why on earth would you...wait, forget that. I don't want to hear why you have one. So I'm basically filling in for your skull?" John asked.

"Relax, you're doing a great job," Rose said.

John doesn't move at all. Silence fills the room.

"Well?" Rose asked.

"Well, what?" John said.

"Well, you could just sit there and watch telly..." Rose told him.

"What, you want me to come with you?" John asked.

"I like company when I go out, and I think better when I talk aloud. Talking to myself makes me seem mad, and the skull just attracts attention, so..." Rose trailed off.

John smiles.

"Problem?" Rose asked, picking up on his silence.

"Yeah, Sergeant Donovan," John replied.

"What has she done this time?" Rose asked with exasperation.

"She said...You get off on this. You enjoy it." John said.

"Well, everyone has to get off on something. And obviously, you enjoy it, seeing as I said "dangerous", yet you're still here." Rose said.

Rose then proceeds to walk out the door. John sits there thoughtfully for a few seconds until his legs start to hurt. Angrily, he shouts,  
"Damn it!"

Not long afterward, John catches up to Rose in the street and they continue down the road.

"Where are we going?" asked John.

"Northumberland Street's a five-minute walk from here," Rose replied

"You think he's stupid enough to go there?" John asked.

"No-I think he's brilliant enough. The brilliant ones are always looking to get caught." Rose explained.

"Why?" John asked, confused.

"Appreciation! Applause! At long last the spotlight. That's the frailty of genius, John: it needs an audience." Rose continued.

"Yeah," said John, looking pointedly at her.

"This is his hunting ground, right here in the heart of the city. We know his victims were abducted now, and we know that the victims all disappeared on busy streets, crowded places, but nobody saw them go."

Think! Who do we trust, even though we don't know them? Who can pass by unnoticed wherever they go? Who hunts in the middle of a crowd?" Rose asked John, trying to get his opinion.

"Dunno. Who?" John said, without a single clue as to who.

"Haven't got the faintest. Hungry?" Rose asked.

Soon, they enter a small restaurant. The waiter near the door clear knows Rose and gestures to a reserved table at the front window.

"Thank you, Billy," Rose said.

Taking off her black leather jacket, she sits down on the bench seat. Billy soon takes the 'Reserved' sign off the table. John sits down on the other bench seat with his back to the window and proceeds to take off his jacket.

"Twenty-two Northumberland Street. Keep your eyes on it." Rose told John.

"He isn't just gonna ring the doorbell, though, is he? He'd need to be mad." John exclaimed.

"He has killed four people." Rose pointed out.

"...Okay," John replied.

"Rose." Angelo greets. They both shake hands.

Laying out a couple of menus on the table before saying,

"On the house, for you _and_ for your date." 

"Do you want to eat?" Rose asks.

"I'm not her date." John protested.

"This girl got me off a murder charge," Angelo explained.

"This is Angelo." Rose introduced.

Angelo then proceeds to offer his hand to John, who shakes it.

"Three years ago, I successfully proved to Lestrade that at the time of a particularly vicious triple murder that Angelo was in a completely different part of town, house-breaking," Rose explained.

"She cleared my name," Angelo told John.

"I cleared it a bit," Rose corrected. "Anything happening opposite?"

"Nothing," replied Angelo, before turning back to John. "But for this girl, I'd have gone to prison."

"You did go to prison though," Rose pointed out.

"I'll get a candle for the table. It's more romantic," Angelo said, before rushing away.

"I'm not her date!" shouted John, who was ignored.

"You may as well eat. We will have a long wait anyway," Rose told John.

Angelo soon came back with a glass bowl containing lit tea-light. He puts it onto the table and gives John a thumbs-up before turning and walking away.

Later, John has a plate of food in front of him. As he eats from it, Rose is focusing outside on the nearby street.

"People don't have arch-enemies" John suddenly said.

Rose takes a moment, before turning to meet his gaze.

"Sorry?" Rose said.

"In real life. There are no arch-enemies in real life. Doesn't happen." John repeated.

"Really? That sounds awfully boring then." Rose replied.

"So who did I meet?" asked John.

Avoiding the question, Rose proceeds to ask,

"What do real people have, then, in their 'real lives' ?"

"Friends; people they know; people they like; people they don't like...Girlfriends, boyfriends..." John listed, trailing off.

"Yes, well, as I was saying-boring," Rose replied.

"You don't have a boyfriend, then?" asked John, bewildered that such a young lady didn't have one.

"Boyfriend? No, not really my area...anymore," replied Rose, with a bit of sadness in her voice.

"Mm," John said.

A moment passes before he realizes the possible significance of this statement

"Oh, right. D'you have a girlfriend?" John proceeded to ask.

Rose sharply turned to face him.

"Which is fine, by the way." John quickly added

"So, you've got a girlfriend then?" John asked again.

"No," Rose quickly said.

Smiling until it became awkward, John continued, "Right. Okay. You're unattached. Like me." He proceeds to look down at his plate, running out of things to fill the silence. "Fine. Good."

He continues eating. Rose however is looking at him suspiciously for a moment, but then turns to face the window again. She then proceeds to analyze what John had just said, and was startled a little bit by it. She then thoughtfully composes something to say to John, only to realize while saying it she may be leading him in a direction she doesn't want to go.

"John, I don't know how to say this, but, I consider myself married to my work as of now, and while I'm flattered by your interest, I should mention that my..." Rose responded carefully.

"No. No, I'm not asking. No." John interrupted.

"I'm just saying, it's all fine." 

Rose then looks at him for a moment, then nods.

"Good. Thank you."

She then turns her head back to the street. John looks away, processing what Rose had just said. Before getting to ask what the last part of her answer was, Rose interrupts his thoughts.

"Look across the street. There's a taxi."

John twists in his seat, looking out the window where a taxi has parked at the side of the road with its back end towards the restaurant.

"Stopped. Nobody getting in, and nobody getting out." Rose continued.

Then they spot a male passenger looking through the side windows as if trying to see somebody in particular.

Mumbling to herself, Rose continues, "Why as a taxi? Oh, that's clever. Is it clever? Why is it clever?"

"That's him?" John asks.

"Don't stare," Rose commanded him.

"You're staring," John retorted.

"We can't both stare," Rose told him.

Quickly, Rose gets her jacket and heads to the door. John then picks up his own jacket and follows, forgetting his walking cane. Outside the door, Rose puts on her jacket while keeping her eyes fixed on the taxi. The passenger continues to look around him, then turns and looks out the back window. As soon as the passenger's gaze falls onto the restaurant, the cab pulls away from the curb. Rose immediately pulls John, running towards the cab while ignoring the oncoming traffic. Cars slam their brakes as Rose pulling John move in on the cab, while John shouts to the drivers, "Sorry!"

Soon, Rose realizes she isn't going to catch up to the cab and finally notices John trying to pull his hand out of her iron grasp.

"Sorry," Rose apologized.

"It's okay. I've got the cab number," John said.

Quicky, Rose predicts where the cab will be heading after calling up a mental map of the local area. She then proceeds to try and find the quickest route to catch up to the cab in time, before then grabbing John's hand again and starting to run.

To John, however, only a few seconds had passed since John last spoke, and was startled by Rose suddenly taking his hand. Trying to pull his hand out of her's to no avail, before finally giving up. 

Soon, Rose turns toward a building entrance and shoves a man out of the way.

"Oi!" The man exclaimed.

"Sorry," John apologized as he was being pulled away.

The two race up the stairs and out onto a metal spiral fire escape. Rose is speeding and pulling John along, while John struggles to keep from tripping.

"Come on, John. You're too slow!" Rose exclaimed

Soon, they reach the roof, and Rose quickly calculates that she and John would most likely be able to jump the gap. Soon, she jumps across the gap. John hesitates before Rose shouted,

"Come on, John. We're losing him!"

John quickly backs up, bracing himself before leaping. They then proceed to gallop down another metal staircase before continuing to race after the taxi. Soon, after racing through an alleyway and another street, they arrive precisely where the cab is approaching.

"Police! Open Up!" Rose shouted, flashing a Police I.D. badge at the approaching cab, which screeches to a stop. John, panting, catches up to Rose who doesn't even look out of breath or tired. She then opens the rear door and stares at the anxious passenger. 

"No," Rose says in disbelief and dread. 

"Teeth, tan: Californian?" Rose analyzed.

Eyeing a suitcase, she then concludes,

"L.A., Santa Monica. Just arrived."

She then eyes the cabbie who was staring at him intently, with a planning expression

She then straightens up, grimacing.

"How can you possibly know that?" asked John.

"The luggage," answered Rose.

"IT's probably your first trip to London, right, going by your final destination and the route the cabbie was taking you?" Rose started.

"Sorry-are you guys the police?" asked the bewildered man.

Flashing the badge again, before continuing, "Yeah. Everything all right?"

"Yeah," the man responded.

Rose pauses, trying to find the right word to finish the conversation with, before smiling at the man.

"Welcome to London."

She immediately walks away, leaving John to finish the conversation. John then slams the door and walks to where Rose had stopped a few yards behind the vehicle. 

"Basically just a cab that happened to slow down," John started.

"Basically," Rose answered.

"Not the murderer," John continued.

"Not the murderer," Rose disappointedly repeated.

"Wrong country, good alibi," John said.

"Next time, don't drag me. I'm capable of running. Hey, where did you get this? Here," John asked, before gesturing Rose to give him the badge. He then read it closely.

"Right. Detective Inspector Lestrade?"

"Yeah. I pickpocket him for fun when he's annoying. You can keep that one, I've got plenty at the flat." Rose responded.

John nods, before chuckling silently.

"What?" asked Rose.

"Nothing, just: 'Welcome to London'" John answered.

Rose stared, before laughing for the first time in a long time, before noticing a police officer going to investigate why the cab has stopped in the middle of the street. She sees the passenger getting out and pointing down the road towards the pair. Rose then grabs John hand before saying,

"Run."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last Edited: 10/12/2020


	5. A Study in Pink: Drugs Bust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What are you doing on a drugs bust?"

Soon, the pair arrive back at 221B, walking down the hallway, breathing heavily. John hangs his jacket on a hook on the wall and Rose proceeds to do the same with her jacket.

"Okay, that was ridiculous," John started.

"That was the most ridiculous thing I've ever done."

"Probably not as ridiculous as some of the things I've done," Rose said, with a dreamy look on her face before snapping back into reality.

"Why aren't we back at the restaurant?" asked John.

"We don't need to be there to keep an eye out, they're already doing it for us." Rose dismissed.

"So what were we doing there?" John asked.

"Just passing the time. And proving a point." Rose cryptically responded.

"What point?" John confusedly asked.

"You," Rose responded.

She then proceeds to call loudly, "Mrs. Hudson! Doctor Watson will take the room upstairs."

"Says who?" John asked.

"Says the man at the door" Rose responded.

John then turns his head just to hear someone knock on the door three times. He then opens the door to find Angelo standing outside.

"Rose texted me," Angelo said, holding up John's walking cane.

"She said you forgot this."

John just stared at the cane, before taking it.

"Ah," John said.

"Err, thank you. Thank you."

As he comes back in and closes the door, Mrs. Hudson comes out of her flat, upset, and tearful.

"Rose, what have you done?" she asked.

"Mrs. Hudson, what happened?" Rose asked, confused and concerned.

"Upstairs," was all Mrs. Hudson said.

The pair then hurried upstairs into the living room, only to be greeted by Lestrade sitting in an armchair and a group of officers going through Rose's possessions.

"What are you doing?" Rose exclaimed.

"Well, I knew you'd find the case. I'm not stupid." Lestrade began.

"You can't just break into my flat," Rose angrily shouted.

"And you can't withhold evidence," Lestrade retorted. "And I didn't break into your flat." 

Looking around at his officers before looking back at Rose innocently, "It's a drug bust."

"Seriously?! This girl, a junkie?! Have you met her?!" John said in disbelief, as Rose was a seemingly young and innocent girl, and she was quite intelligent, which made it quite hard for John to believe that she was a junky.

"John..." Rose warned.

"I'm pretty sure you could search this flat all day, you wouldn't find anything you could call recreational," John continued to Lestrade.

"John right now may be the time to shut up," Rose warned again.

"Yeah, but come on..." John said, trailing off. Looking into her eyes, and noticing how serious she was looking.

"No," John said in disbelief.

"What?" Rose said.

"You?" John continued, still in disbelief.

"Shut up!" Rose angrily said as her time of depression was not the prettiest chapter of her life.

She then turned to Lestrade.

"I will not be your sniffer dog!" She proclaimed.

"No, _Anderson's_ my sniffer dog," Lestrade corrected.

"What, An..." Rose said, before walking towards the kitchen.

Soon, she's greeted to the sight of several more officers and Anderson.

"Anderson, what are you doing here on this drug bust?" Rose angrily said.

"Oh, I volunteered," Anderson venomously replied.

Rose then turns away, biting her lips.

"They all did. They're not strictly speaking _on_ the drugs squad, but they're very keen," Lestrade said, just as Donovan come into view from the kitchen, holding a jar of TARDIS coral, before asking,

"Are these octopus arms?" asked Donovan, mistaking the coral for an octopus somehow.

"Put those back!" Rose shouted.

"They were in the microwave!" Donovan exclaimed.

"First of all, that's not a microwave. Second of all, it's for a project!," Rose shouted.

"Keep looking, guys," Lestrade encourage.

"Or you could help us properly and I'll stand them down.

"This is childish," Rose angrily proclaimed, pacing.

"Well, I'm dealing with a child. Rose, this is our case. I'm letting you in, but you do not go off on your own. You may have done it differently at Torchwood, but here, we follow our rules. Clear?" Lestrade told her.

"Oh, what, so you set up a pretend drugs bust to bully me?" Rose retorted.

"It stops being pretend if they find something." Lestrade shot back.

"I am clean," Rose said out loud.

"Is your flat? All of it?" Lestrade questioned.

"I don't even smoke," Rose proclaimed.

She then rolls up her sleeves, showing her nicotine patches.

"Neither do I," Lestrade said, pulling up the sleeves of his shirt and jacket to show similar patches. They then both roll their sleeves back down.

"So let's work together. We've found Rachel," Lestrade began.

"Who is she?" Rose asked.

"Jennifer Wilson's only daughter," Lestrade responded.

Rose quickly runs off a few reasons why she possibly would've done such a thing. At first, she considers the fact that because she's her daughter she did that, before ruling it out as chipping the word would hurt, and what would be the point of etching it in versus just thinking about her. She frowned, before asking,

"Her daughter? Why would she write her daughter's name? Why?"

"Never mind that. We found the case. According to someone, the murderer has the case, and we found it in the hands of our favorite psychopath," Anderson said.

Rose looked at him disparagingly, before sneering, "I'm not a psychopath, Anderson. Do you even know what a psychopath is?"

"You need to bring Rachel in. You need to question her. I need to question her," Rose started.

"She's dead," Lestrade said.

"That's just great!" Rose shouted.

John was startled by what Rose said.

"How, when, and why? Is there any possible connection? There has to be some kind." Rose said.

"Well, I doubt it, since she's been dead for fourteen years. Technically she was never alive. Rachel was Jennifer Wilson's stillborn daughter." Lestrade said.

After hearing this, she had some remorse toward the woman but quickly pushes that down. "No, that doesn't make sense. Why would she do that? Why?" Rose said.

"Why would she think of her daughter in her last moments? Yup-psychopath; I'm seeing it now." Anderson said.

"She didn't just think about her daughter, she scratched her name on the floor with her fingernails. It would've hurt." Rose retorted.

"You said that the victims all took the poison themselves, that he makes them take it. Well, maybe he...I don't know, talks to them? Maybe he used the death of her daughter somehow." John supplied.

"Well, it still would've hurt, no matter how much she was still upset about her daughter." Rose reasoned.

She then paces a bit, before turning to ask John, "If you were dying...if you'd been murdered: in your very last few seconds what would you say?"

"Please, God, let me live," John said.

"Oh come on, be a little bit more creative," Rose said exasperatedly.

"I don't have to!" John exclaimed.

Rose recognized the look of pain on John's face, as she had seen that pain in the mirror all too long ago. She then continued,

"Think about it. If you were clever, really clever, like Jennifer Wilson running with all those lovers, she had to be clever. She's trying to tell us something."

Before Rose could continue, Mrs. Hudson comes to the living room door.

"Isn't the doorbell working? Your taxi's here, Rose." 

"I didn't order any taxi. Tell them to go away."

"Oh, dear. They're making such a mess. What are they looking for?" asked Mrs. Hudson.

"It's a drug bust, Mrs. Hudson," explained John.

"But they're just for my hip. They're herbal soothers," Mrs. Hudson anxiously says.

Soon, everyone is whispering, before Rose stops and shouts.

"Shut up, everybody, shut up! Don't move, don't speak. I'm trying to think. Anderson, face the other way. You're annoying me." 

"What? My face is?!" Anderson exclaimed.

"Everybody quiet and still. Anderson, turn your back," Lestrade calmly said.

"Oh, for God's sake!" Anderson said.

"Your back, now, please!" Lestrade sternly repeated.

Rose then returned into deep thought, and just then, Mrs. Hudson came and broke the silence.

"What about your taxi?"

"Mrs. Hudson, may you please tell the taxi driver to buzz off," Rose said politely.

She then turns and hurries down the stairs. Just then, Rose finally realized what she was missing, what connected all the pieces.

"Oh."

She then smiles.

"Ah! She was clever, clever, yes!"

She then walks across the room to the others.

"She was clever, at least cleverer than you lot. Don't you see it, don't you get it? She didn't lose her phone, she never did. She planted it on him. When she got out of the car, she was prepared to die. She left the phone for us to find the killer.

"But how?" Lestrade confusedly asked.

"What? Are you asking how do we find the killer?"

Lestrade nodded.

"Rachel!" She said triumphantly, before looking at all the blank stares in the room.

"Don't you see it? Rachel!"

The room was still full of blank faces.

Rose continued. "Rachel is not a name."

"Then what is it?" John asked.

"It's a passcode," Rose answered. "John, on the luggage, there's a label. E-mail address."

John then looks at the label on the suitcase and reads out the address. "Jennie dot pink at mephone dot org dot UK."

Rose then proceeds to open her laptop, before typing in the website mephone.org.uk. She then proceeded to type in the email address, before explaining.  
"She didn't have a laptop, which means she did her business on her phone, so it's a smartphone, it's e-mail enabled."

"So there was a website for her account. The username is her e-mail address, and the password is..." Rose said, trailing off to let the other answer.

"Rachel," John answered.

"So we can read her e-mails. So what?" Anderson retorted.

"Anderson, please don't talk out loud. You're lowering the I.Q. of the whole street. We can do much more than read her e-mails. She's leading us directly to the man who killed her," Rose said.

"Unless he got rid of it," Lestrade grimly said.

"We know he didn't," John answered.

"Come on, come on. Quickly!" Rose shouted at the laptop.

Soon, Mrs. Hudson was back at the doorway.

"Rose, dear. This taxi driver..." Mrs. Hudson said.

"Mrs. Hudson, if the taxi driver won't buzz off, then just leave it alone," Rose told her, before spotting a man behind Mrs. Hudson. She notices Mrs. Hudson's scared expression, so she's being threatened by the man, she concludes.

Mrs. Hudson hurries off. Rose then gets out of the chair, annoyed that the website was taking so long to load.

Rose thought back to the first major question she asked John about the case. "Who do we trust, even if we don't know them?" She then realized the man behind Mrs. Hudson was a licensed London cab driver. The man who can pass unnoticed would be a cab driver. It wasn't the man in the cab, it was the driver who was the murderer. It would explain why the cab stopped for so long, and why she felt the cabbie was staring at her intently. Soon, her phone chimes, and she digs it out of her pockets. The message simply reads, "COME WITH ME." She calmly turns to Lestrade.

"We need to get vehicles, get a helicopter," Rose told Lestrade.

"We'll just have a map reference, not a name," Lestrade said.

"It's better than nothing!" Rose exclaimed, trying to ensure she had back up.

The computer then finally loaded the map, zooming in on the location of the phone.

"Rose..." John said as he noticed where it was.

"It narrows it down from just anyone in London. It's the best lead we have," Rose explained.

"Rose..." John continued, trying to get her attention.

"What is it? Did it finally load? Where is it?" Rose asked, even though she already knew where it was..

"It's here. It's in two two one Baker Street," John said.

"What? But...How?" Rose pretended to ask.

"Well, maybe it was in the case when you brought it back and it fell out somewhere," Lestrade supplied.

"That doesn't make any sense. If it fell on the floor, it would've made a loud sound," Rose reasoned.

"Anyway, we texted him and he called back," John explained.

"Guys, we're also looking for a mobile somewhere here, belonged to the victim..." Lestrade told the officers.

"Rose are you okay?" John asked.

"What? Yeah, yeah, I'm okay," Rose said.

"So, how can the phone be here?" John asked.

"Dunno," Rose said, looking out the window.

"I'll try it again," John said, getting his phone out of his jeans.

"Good idea," Rose said, still not focusing on what he said.

"Where are you going?" John asked, noticing her anxiety.

"Out. For fresh air. Won't take too long," Rose answered.

John frowned as Rose was leaving the room, and calls after her.

"You sure you're okay?"

"I'm always okay," Rose answered, hurrying down the stairs.


	6. A Study in Pink: The Cabbie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose confronts the mysterious cabbie, only to receive a cab ride.

Downstairs, Rose opens the front door and stands on the doorstep for a moment while he shrugs himself into his coat. A taxi is parked at the curb and the driver, Jeff Hope, is leaning casually against the side of the cab.

“Taxi for Rose Tyler,” Jeff, the cabbie, called out.

Rose then steps forward, closing the door behind her.

“I didn’t order a taxi,” Rose told him

“Doesn’t mean you don’t need one,” the cabbie cryptically responded.

“You’re the cabbie. The one who stopped outside Northumberland Street,” Rose stated

“It was _you_ , not your passenger,” Rose accused.

"See? No-one ever thinks about the cabbie. It’s like you’re invisible. Just the back of an ’ead. Proper advantage for a serial killer. You seemed to notice though"

Rose then takes a few more steps toward the cabbie.

“Is this a confession?”

“Oh, yeah. An’ I’ll tell you what else: if you call the coppers now, I won’t run. I’ll sit quiet and they can take me down, I promise.”

“Why?” asked a puzzled Rose.

“’Cause you’re not gonna do that.”

“You think I won’t?” Rose asked.

“I didn’t kill those four people, Ms. Tyler. I spoke to ’em ... and they killed themselves. An’ if you get the coppers now, I promise you one thing”

He then leans forward, and whispers,

“I will never tell you what I said.”

Rose stares at him. After a moment, Jeff straightens up and starts to walk around the front of the cab.

“No-one else will die though, and I believe that was the goal.”

Jeff stops and turns back towards her.

“An’ you won’t ever understand how those people died. What kind of result do you care about?”

He turns again and continues around to the driver’s door. Getting in, he sits down and closes the door, settling into his seat and ignoring Rose. Biting her lip, internally debating whether she would risk

being the 5th victim to complete the puzzle, or just end it here. She struggled to decide, before on a whim deciding to take the risk.

“Let's say I wanted to understand? How would I do that?” Rose asked Jeff.

Turning to meet her, the cabbie replied,

“Let me take you for a ride.”

“You think I’m just going to let you kill me?” Rose scoffed.

“ I don’t wanna kill you, Ms. Tyler. I’m gonna talk to yer ... and then you’re gonna kill yourself.”

He turns to face the front again. Rose straightens up, her eyes lost in thought as she considers the situation. Jeff calmly sits gazing out of the front window, then smiles in satisfaction when the rear door opens. The cab dips as Rose gets in and then the door slams shut. Jeff starts the engine.

Upstairs, John has his phone held to his ear and is looking out of the window. The cab can be heard as it pulls away.

“She just got in a cab.”

He turns to Lestrade.

“It’s Rose. She just drove off in a cab.”

Donovan, standing beside Lestrade, tuts in irritation.

“I told you, she does that.”

She turns to Lestrade.

“She bloody left again.”

She walks back into the kitchen, talking loudly.

“We’re wasting our time!”

“I’m calling the phone. It’s ringing out.” John said.

In the cab, a phone is ringing. Rose watches Jeff as the pink phone – which Jeff has put in the well beside his seat – continues to ring. Back in the flat, Lestrade watches John as he continues to hold his phone to his ear.

“If it’s ringing, it’s not here,” Lestrade

John lowers his phone and reaches for the computer notebook.

“I’ll try the search again.”

Donovan soon comes back into the room, confronting Lestrade,

“Does it matter? Does _any_ of it? You know, she might’ve in the past, but she’s not anymore. She’s just a lunatic now, she might not even be _human_. But I know that she’ll _always_ let you down, and you’re wasting your time. _All_ our time.”

Lestrade stares at her for a long moment as she holds his gaze, then he sighs.

“Okay, everybody. Done ’ere.” Lestrade announced.

In the cab, Rose is watching the London scenery pass by, and at the same time running all the possible ways she could get out of this mess.

“How did you find me?” Rose asked.

“Oh, I recognized yer, soon as I saw you chasing my cab. The famous Rose Tyler! I was warned about you. I’ve been on your website, too. Brilliant stuff! Loved it!”

Puzzled as to how she was famous for her website, she asked, “Who warned you about me?”

“Just someone out there who’s noticed you.”

“ Who?”

She then notices the shaving cream on his neck and the framed picture of his children.

“Who would notice _me_?” Rose asked, still not understanding how anyone would notice her website. If anything, she expected to be known for being the daughter of Pete Tyler, the creator of Vitex, as she used to be at events, attending them for her father. Failing that, she expected to be known better for her former role at Torchwood, as she often held press conferences.

“You’re too modest, Ms. Tyler,” the cabbie responded.

“Maybe there was a time I was, but I don’t think I’m that type of person anymore,” Rose responded.

“You’ve got yourself a fan,” Jeff said.

“Really? Tell me more,” Rose pressed with interest.

“That’s all you’re gonna know ...”

He pauses dramatically for a moment.

“ ... in _this_ lifetime.”

Rose just laughs at him. Jeff, however, is grinning as he had a trick up his sleeve.

Back at the flat, as the other police officers leave, Lestrade picks up his coat and turns to John.

“Why did she do that? Why did she have to leave?”

“You know her better than I do,” John retorted.

“Maybe I did 15 years ago when I first met her, but I don’t really know her anymore,” Lestrade responded.

“15 years ago? But she only seems 22!” John exclaimed.

“Rose Tyler is a very strange girl, and one of her strange qualities is how little she ages,” Lestrade responded.

“Why do you even put up with her?” John asked, trying to get his mind off the strange discovery.

“Because I’m desperate, that’s why,” Lestrade responded.

He walks to the door, then turns back.

“And because Rose Tyler is a great woman. And I think one day, if we’re very, very _lucky_ , she may be a good one again.” He then turns and leaves.

  
Some distance away, the cab drives on and finally stops at the front of two identical buildings side by side. Jeff turns off the engine and gets out, coming to the back door and opening it. He looks in at Rose.

“Where are we?” Rose asked, even though she knew perfectly well where she was.

“You know every street in London. You know _exactly_ where we are,” Jeff retorted.

Giving in, Rose said, ”Roland-Kerr Further Education College. Why here?”

“It’s open; cleaners are in,” Jeff explained, “One thing about being a cabbie: you always know a nice quiet spot for a murder. I’m surprised more of us don’t branch out.”

“And you just walk your victims in? How?”

Jeff raises a pistol and points it at Rose. Rose contemplated just disarming the man, before realizing the pistol was just a lighter.

“So cliché.”

“Don’t worry. It gets better,” Jeff said.

“You can’t make people take their own lives at gunpoint,” Rose reasoned.

“I don’t. It’s much better than that,” Jeff said

He lowers the gun.

“Don’t need this with you, ’cause you’ll follow me.”

He confidently walks away. Rose sits for a moment, trying to talk herself out of following Jeff before her need to solve the incomplete puzzle won. She grimaces in exasperation at herself as she does just what Jeff predicted and gets out of the cab to follow the man.

Back at 221B, John is alone in the flat. He appears to have decided to go home and walks towards the living room door, then looks down and clenches his right hand as if realizing that he doesn’t have his walking cane. He looks around and sees the cane lying on top of a box of papers next to the dining table and goes over to collect it. With its back to him, Rose's notebook is still on Mephone’s website and the clock is spinning on the screen while the site searches for Jennifer Wilson’s phone. As John picks up the cane and heads for the door again, the computer beeps triumphantly and a map appears on the screen and starts to zoom in on the new location of the phone. John turns back as the computer beeps repeatedly. Going back to the table and propping his cane against it, he picks up the notebook and looks at the screen, then he turns and takes the notebook with him as he hurries out of the door and down the stairs, once again forgetting to take his cane.

At Roland-Kerr College, Jeff opens the door of a room and stands aside so that Rose can go in. Rose looks at him closely but steps inside the room, then Jeff releases the door and lets it swing closed as he walks over to some switches on the wall and turns on the lights. The two are in a large classroom that has long fixed wooden benches and free-standing plastic chairs. Rose walks deeper into the room, looking around.

“Well, what do you think?”

Rose cleared her throat, before saying nothing.

“It’s up to you. You’re the one who’s gonna die ’ere,” Jeff told Rose.

Rose turns back to him.

“No, I’m not.”

“That’s what they all say,” Jeff responded.

Rose chuckles at him, thinking “if only it were that simple”.

He gestures to one of the benches.

“Shall we talk?”

Without waiting for a reply, he pulls out one of the chairs and sits down. Rose takes a chair from the bench in front, flips it around, and sits down opposite.

“Bit risky, wasn’t it? Took me away under the eye of about half a dozen policemen. They might be slow, but they’re not that slow. And Mrs. Hudson will remember you.”

“You call that a risk? Nah,” Jeff said.

He reaches into the left pocket of his cardigan.

“ _This_ is a risk.”

He takes out a small glass bottle with a screw top and puts it onto the table in front of him. There is a single large capsule inside. Rose looks at it but doesn’t react in any way.

“Ooh, I like this bit. ’Cause you don’t get it yet, do yer? But you’re about to. I just have to do this.”

Reaching into his right pocket, he takes out an identical bottle containing an identical capsule and puts it onto the table beside the first bottle.

“You weren’t expecting that, were yer?”

He leans forward.

“Ooh, you’re going to love this.”

“Love what?” Rose asked, still not understanding.

Jeff sits back, before beginning, “Rose Tyler! Look at you! ’Ere in the flesh. That website of yours: your fan told me about it.”

“My _fan_?” Rose asked, bewildered how anyone would be a fan of her.

“You are brilliant. You _are_. A proper genius. “The Science of Deduction.” Now that is _proper_ thinking. Between you and me sitting ’ere, why can’t people think?”

He looks down angrily.

“Don’t it make you mad? Why can’t people just _think_?”

Rose grimaces, asking herself if this is what she sounded to other people.

“Oh, _I_ see. So you’re a proper genius,” Rose said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Don’t look it, do I? Funny little man drivin’ a cab. But you’ll know better in a minute. Chances are it’ll be the last thing you _ever_ know.”

Rose holds her gaze for a second or two, then looks down to the table.

“I don’t get it. Two bottles, explain?” she said, trying to buy herself time even though she knew what was coming.

“There’s a good bottle and a bad bottle. You take the pill from the good bottle, you live; take the pill from the bad bottle, you die.”

“Both bottles are of course identical,” Rose stated.

“In every way.”

“And you know which is which.”

“Course _I_ know.”

“But I don’t.”

“Wouldn’t be a game if _you_ knew. You’re the one who chooses.”

“Why should I? I’ve got nothing to go on. What’s in it for me?”

“I ’aven’t told you the best bit yet. Whatever bottle you choose, I take the pill from the other one – and then, together, we take our medicine.”

Rose starts to grin, thinking she will get the easy way out as the poison will almost certainly kill the cabbie, yet not kill her.

“One more thing,” Jeff interrupted, “I ‘ave added aspirin into the pills at the recommendation of your fan.”

Rose then froze, not understanding how anyone could know about that, before quickly recovering, and pretending to not be at least partially scared.

“I won’t cheat. It’s your choice. I’ll take whatever pill you don’t.”

Rose looks down at the bottles, concentrating properly now.

“Didn’t expect _that_ , did you, Ms. Tyler?”

Rose scoffs at Jeff, before saying, “This is what you did to the rest of them: you gave them a choice.”

“And now I’m givin’ _you_ one.”

Rose then looks at him.

“You take your time. Get yourself together,” Jeff continued. “I want your best game.”

“It’s not a _game_. It’s _chance_.”

“I’ve played four times. I’m alive. It’s not chance, Ms. Tyler, it’s chess. It’s a game of chess, with one move, and one survivor. And this ... _this_ ... is the move.”

With his left hand, he slides the left-hand bottle across the table towards Rose. He licks his top lip as he pulls his hand back and leaves the bottle where it is.

“Did I just give you the good bottle or the bad bottle? You can choose either one.”

John is in the back of a taxi. He has the computer notebook open on his lap and is holding his phone to his ear.

"No, Detective Inspector Lestrade. I _need_ to speak to him. It’s important. It’s an emergency!" John shouted.  
The map on the laptop shows the location of Jennifer’s phone again.

"Er, left here, please. Left here," John directed the cabbie.

Back at the college, Jeff looks down at the bottles briefly then meets Rose’s eyes.

“You ready yet, Ms. Tyler? Ready to play?”

Rose exasperated, “Play _what_? It’s a fifty-fifty chance.”

“You’re not playin’ the numbers, you’re playin’ _me_. Did I just give you the good pill or the bad pill? Is it a bluff? Or a double-bluff? Or a _triple_ -bluff?”

“Still just chance.”

“Four people in a row? It’s not just chance.”

“Could just be a coincidence,” Rose supplied.

“It’s genius. I know ’ow people think.”

Rose rolls her eyes, as she has finally found a man that made even her younger brother look humble.

“I know ’ow people think _I_ think. I can see it all, like a map inside my ’ead.”

“Everyone’s so stupid, so young and naïve, – even you.”

“Or maybe God just loves me.”

Rose then sneers, “Either way, you’re _wasted_ as a cabbie.”

John has arrived at Roland-Kerr College. As the taxi pulls away, John tucks the notebook into his jacket and looks at the two identical buildings in front of him. Clearly, the map isn’t precise enough to indicate exactly where the phone is. After a moment, he makes his choice and heads towards the buildings.

In the classroom, Rose begins,

“So, why did you risk your life four times just to kill strangers. Why?”

“Time to play,” Jeff said.

“Oh no, I _am_ playing. This is _my_ turn,” Rose started, trying to intimidate the cabbie using some of the techniques she used back at Torchwood. “There’s shaving foam behind your left ear. Nobody’s pointed it out to you obviously.”

She then continues, “Traces of where it’s happened before, so obviously you live on your own; there’s no-one to tell you,” Rose said, trying to hit the right keys.

“But there’s a photograph of children. The children’s mother has been cut out of the picture. If she’d died, she’d still be there,” Rose said as she finally found the right keys to hit.

“The photograph’s old but the frame’s new. You think of your children but you don’t get to see them.”

Jeff’s gaze slides away from Rose and for the first time, there’s a hint of pain in his eyes.

“Estranged father,” she concludes. 

“She took the kids, but you still love them and it _still_ hurts,” she says, voice filled with sympathy.

“Ah, but there’s more.”

“Your clothes: recently laundered but everything you’re wearing is at least ... three years old? You're keeping up appearances but not planning ahead. And here you are on a kamikaze murder spree. What’s _that_ about?”

Rose then adds two and two together, before softly saying,

“Ahh. Three years ago – is that when they told you?”

“Told me what?” Jeff said flatly.

“That you’re running out of time.”

“So are you,” Jeff retorted.

“You don’t have long to live though. Am I correct?” Rose asked.

“Aneurism,” Jeff responded.

He lifts his right hand and taps the side of his head.

“Right in ’ere.”

Rose is filled with sadness, before realizing none of it adds up.

“Any breath could be my last.”

“And because you’re dying, you’ve just murdered four people for no reason?”

“I’ve _outlived_ four people. That’s the most fun you can _’ave_ on an aneurism,” Jeff tried to reason to her.

“No. No, that doesn’t make sense. You didn’t just kill four people because you’re bitter. Bitterness is a paralytic. Love is a much more vicious motivator. I know this. Somehow this has to be about your children.”

“Ohh,” Jeff said.

He looks at Rose.

"I didn’t expect you to be this good.”

“But how can I be related to your children?” Rose interrogated.

“When I die, they won’t get much, my kids. Not a lot of money in driving cabs.”

“Or serial killing,” Rose retorted.

“You’d be surprised,” Jeff said.

“It’s very hard to surprise me.”

Jeff leans forward

“I ’ave a sponsor.”

“What?” a surprised Rose asked.

“For every life I take, money goes to my kids. The more I kill, the better off they’ll be. You see? It’s nicer than you think.”

“Who’d sponsor a serial killer?”

“Who’d be a fan of Rose Tyler?” the cabbie instantly replied.

They stare at each other for a moment.

“You’re not the only one to enjoy a good murder. There’s others out there just like you, except you’re just a girl ... and they’re so much more than that.”

Rose starts to feel sick inside.

“What d’you mean, _more_ than a girl? An organization? What?” Rose interrogated.

“There’s a name no-one says, an’ I’m not gonna say it either. Now, enough chatter.”

“Time to choose.”

 _  
  
_Elsewhere in the college, John is running through the corridors.

“Rose?”

He runs from door to door, trying them and peering in through windows.

“Rose!”

The standoff continues in the classroom.

“What if I don’t choose either? I _could_ just walk out of here,” Rose taunted.

Sighing in a combination of exasperation and disappointment, Jeff lifts up the pistol and points it at Rose.

“You can take your fifty-fifty chance, or I can shoot you in the head.”

Rose smiles calmly, knowing what’s coming next.

“Funnily enough, no-one’s ever gone for that option,” the cabbie continues.

“I’ll have the gun, please.”

“Are you sure?”

“Definitely. The gun.”

“You don’t wanna phone a friend?” the cabbie said, trying to delay the inevitable.

Rose smiles with the same confidence.

“The gun.”

Jeff’s mouth tightens, and slowly he squeezes the trigger. A small flame bursts out of the end of the muzzle. Rose smiles smugly.

“If you knew enough about me, you would know I used to work with guns.”

Calmly Jeff lifts the lighter and releases the trigger. The flame goes out.

“None of the others did.”

“Obviously. Well, this has been a _very_ interesting case to solve. I look forward to the court case.”

She stands up and walks towards the door. Jeff puts the gun onto the desk and calmly turns in his seat.

“Just before you go,” Jeff interrupts, “did you figure it out ...”

Rose stops at the door

“... which one’s the good bottle?"

"Of course. Child’s play."

"Well, which one, then?"

Rose opens the door, preparing to leave before Jeff taunted,

"You don't know, do you?"

Rose closes the door, clenching her fist.

"Come on. Play the game."

Slowly Rose walks back towards him. When she gets to the table, she reaches out and sweeps up the bottle nearest to Jeff, then walks past him. Jeff looks down at the other bottle with interest but his voice gives nothing away as he speaks.

"Oh. Interesting."

He picks up the other bottle as Rose looks down at the bottle in her own hand, trying to look for defects.

Out in the corridors, John is still running along and searching.

In the classroom, Jeff has opened his bottle and tips the capsule out into his hand. He holds it up and looks at it closely while Rose examines her own bottle.

"So what d’you think?" Jeff said, interrupting the silence.

He looks back at Rose.

"Shall we?" Jeff asked.

In the corridors, John pulls open yet another door and looks inside the room before hurrying onwards.

_"Really_ , what do you think?" Jeff asks.

He stands up to meet Rose's gaze.

"Can you beat me?" Jeff taunts.

John races up a flight of stairs and continues his search.

"Are you clever enough to bet your life?"

John bursts through a door and stares ahead of him as he finally sees who he’s looking for. His eyes fill with horror. Inside the classroom, Rose lifts her gaze from the bottle she’s holding and looks towards the door. John cries out in horror.

"Rose!" John shouts.

Jeff didn't notice John shout, but Rose did. She dwelled on it for a second, with relief filling her, before filing it away.

"I bet you get bored, don’t you? I _know_ you do. A girl like you ..."

Rose unscrews the lid of the bottle, trying to find a way to bluff the cabbie before an idea popped into her head.

"... so clever. But what’s the point of being clever if you can’t prove it?"

Rose takes out the capsule and holds it between her thumb and finger, raising it to the light to examine it more closely.

"Still the addict."

Slowly Rose lowers the pill again, holding it at eye level and gazing at it, checking for any defects that may cause the contents to leak.

"But this ... _this_ is what you’re really addicted to, innit?"

Rose holds the pill in his fingers and stares at it.

"You’d do anything ... anything at all ..."

Rose's fingers begin to tremble with fear and anticipation.

"... to take the pain away."

Slowly Rose begins to move the pill closer to her mouth. Jeff matches the movement with his own pill towards his own mouth.

"You’re not in pain now, are you?"

Each of their hands gets closer to their mouths.

"Innit good?

A gunshot rings out and a bullet impacts Jeff’s chest close to his heart, continuing through his body and smashing into the door behind him. As he falls to the floor, Rose drops her pill in surprise.

In the opposite building, John has his pistol still raised and aimed out of the window. He lowers the gun to his side.

In the other building, Rose turns, slides over the desk behind him and hurries to the window, bending down to stare through the bullet hole in the glass. The window of the opposite room is open but there is nobody in sight, though she already had a guess who it was before filing it away. As Rose straightens up, Jeff breathes heavily and coughs. Rose turns back, looking around the room and seeing one of the pills lying on one of the desks as Jeff convulses on the floor and gasps and coughs in pain. Rose snatches up the pill, kneels down, and brandishes it at Jeff, who has a large pool of blood underneath him and is staring up at her in shock.

"Was I right?" Rose asked, trying to feed her ego.

Jeff turns his head away in disbelief.

"I don't care. Tell me this, your sponsor. Who was it? How does he know so much? The one who told you about me – my ‘fan.’ I want a name."

"No," Jeff weakly replied.

"You’re dying, but I still know a way to get the information out of you. A name," Rose sternly commanded.

Jeff shakes his head. Taking what she learned of interrogation, then improvising a bit, Rose sticks her shoe into the wound.

"A _name,"_ Rose sternly commanded, a little louder this time.

Jeff cries out in pain.

" _Now!"_ Rose said, getting more furious.

Still, Jeff can only whine in pain. Rose then unleashes all her fury upon the man, taking her shoe out before kicking it back in.

"The _NAME!"_ Rose screamed.

" _MORIARTY!"_ Jeff screamed in agony.

His eyes close and his head rolls to the side. Rose steps back, muttering "Moriarty", before locking the gruesome scene in the depth of her memory, and with it, the fact John was the shooter.

 _  
  
_Later Outside the college, Sherlock is sitting on the back steps of an ambulance. A paramedic puts an orange blanket around her shoulders as Lestrade walks over. Rose gestures to the blanket.

"Why have I got this blanket? They keep putting this blanket on me," not understanding why they would do such a thing, as she has obviously been to many crime scenes.

"Yeah, it’s for shock," Lestrade said

"I’m not _in_ shock," Rose exclaimed.

"Yeah, but some of the guys wanna take photographs."

He grins. Rose rolls her eyes.

"So, the shooter. No sign?"

"Cleared off before we got ’ere. But a guy like that would have had enemies, I suppose. One of them could have been following him but ... got nothing to go on," Lestrade said, trying to lead Rose.

"Oh, I wouldn’t say that," Rose happily replied.

"Okay, gimme.

Rose stands off, before firing off, "The bullet they just dug out of the wall’s from a handgun. Kill shot over that distance from that kind of a weapon – that’s a crack shot you’re looking for, but not just a marksman; a fighter. His hands couldn’t have shaken at all, so clearly he’s acclimatized to violence. He didn’t fire until I was in immediate danger, though, so strong moral principle. You’re looking for a man probably with a history of military service..."

While she’s talking, she turns her head to look around the area and sees John standing some distance away behind the police tape.

"... and nerves of steel ..."

She trails off. As John looks back at him innocently and then turns his head away, Rose starts to remember the connection. Lestrade turns to follow Rose's gaze and Rose turns back to him before he can start to ask questions.

"Actually, do you know what? Forget all of that."

"Sorry?" Lestrade asked, confused.

"Forget all of that. It's just the shock kicking in," Rose said, trying to excuse herself as she walks toward John.

"Where’re you going?" Lestrade asked.

"I just need to talk about the-the rent," Rose shouted back.

"But I’ve still got questions for you!" Lestrade shouted.

"Look, could you just leave me alone. I'm already in shock, I've got the blanket," Rose said.

"Rose!" Lestrade shouted.

"And I stopped a serial killer for you, more or less," Rose added.

Lestrade put two and two together, realizing who the suspect may be.

"Okay. We’ll bring you in tomorrow. Off you go."

Rose walks away. Lestrade smiles as he watches her go, happy that she is finally starting to heal. Rose walks toward John, and John starts a conversation,

"Um, Sergeant Donovan’s just been explaining everything, the two pills. Been a dreadful business, hasn’t it? Dreadful."

Rose stares at him, before complimenting, "Good shot."

"Yes. Yes, must have been, through that window," John said, trying to feign innocence.

"Well, _you’d_ know," Rose said, trying to let him know she already caught him.

John still tries to keep up the facade and fails miserably at this.

"Need to get the powder burns out of your fingers. I don’t suppose you’d serve time for this, but let’s avoid the court case and the press," Rose said.

John clears his throat and looks around nervously.

"Are you okay?" Rose asked with concern.

"Yes, of course I’m all okay," John responded.

"Well, you _have_ just killed a man," Rose pointed out.

"Yes, I ..." John says, trailing off.

"That’s true, innit?" John starts.

"But he wasn’t a very _nice_ man."

This reassured Rose that John wasn't going to go into shock, and Rose cheekily replied,

"No. No, he really wasn't, was he?"

"And frankly a bloody awful cabbie," 

Rose begins to stifle a laugh, then turns and starts to lead them away.

"That’s true. He _was_ a horrible cabbie. Should have seen the route he took us to get here and his driving skills!" Rose said, make a motion of how the cabbie was driving.

Rose bursts into laughter, while John starts to giggle.

"Stop! Stop, we can’t laugh, it’s a crime scene! Stop it!" John shouts.

"I didn't shoot him though, did I?" Rose retorted.

"Keep your voice down!" John exacerbated.

Just then, that walk past a wide-eyed Sergeant Donovan.

"Sorry – it’s just, um, nerves, I think," John tried to explain away.

"Sorry," Rose apologized.

John clears his throat as they walk away from Donovan.

"You were gonna take that damned pill, weren’t you?" John accused.

Rose stops and turns back to him.

"Of course I wasn’t. Biding my time. Knew someone would turn up. I even planned it," Rose said, trying to avoid having the explain why she thought it was a smart idea to hold the pill in her mouth.

"No you didn’t. It’s how you get your kicks, isn’t it? You risk your life to prove you’re clever," John said.

"Why would I do that?" Rose asked, trying to feign innocence.

"Because you’re an idiot." John openly says.

Rose smiles, as for the first time in a long time, she has finally found someone who understands her and someone who doesn't care about her self destructive tendencies.

"Dinner?" Rose asked.

"Starving," Joh replied.

They start to walk again, heading to Baker Street.

"End of Baker Street, there’s a good Chinese that stays open ’til two. You can always tell a good Chinese by examining the bottom third of the door handle," Rose explained.

As she is speaking, a black car pulls up near them, and the mystery man pops out of the car.

"Rose. That’s him. That’s the man I was talking to you about."

"I know _exactly_ who that is," Rose responds.

She walks closer to the man and stops, looking at him angrily. John glances round to gauge where the police are in case he needs to summon their help. The man speaks pleasantly to Rose.

"So, another case cracked. How very public-spirited ... though that’s never really your motivation these days, is it?"

"What are you doing here? You should be back at Torchwood, having a jolly time after sauntering away with my position," Rose said accusingly.

"As ever, I’m concerned about you. And I wasn't the one who threw away their position for drugs," the man replied defensively.

"Yes, I’ve been hearing about your ‘concern'," Rose responded, 

"Always so aggressive. Did it never occur to you that you and I belong on the same side?"

"Hmm, let me think about it. No!" Rose says.

"We have more in common than you like to believe. This petty feud between us is simply childish. People will suffer ... and you know how it always upsets mum."

John frowns, not quite believing what he had just heard.

"I upset her? Me?" Rose rhetorically asked.

The man tries to feign innocence.

"No, no, no. Let me set the record straight, little brother. You were the one who upset mum last time, not me!"

"No, no, wait. Mum? Who’s Mum?" John asked.

"Mother – our mother. This is my brat of a brother, Tony."

John just stares.

"Putting on weight again?" Rose taunts.

"Losing it, in fact," Tony said with a tight expression.

"He’s your _brother_?!" John exclaimed.

"Of _course_ he’s my brother. Where else would you find a huger ego?" Rose said.

"So he’s not ..." John said, trailing off.

"Not what?" Rose pressed him.

"I dunno – criminal mastermind?"

He grimaces at having even suggested it, while Rose is just giving Tony a sharp gaze.

"Close enough."

"For goodness’ sake. I occupy a minor position in the British government," Tony huffed.

"He _is_ the British government when he’s not too busy being the British Secret Service or Torchwood on a freelance basis."

Tony sighs.

"Good evening, Tony. Try not to start a war before I get home. You know that I prefer to make it home in one piece," Rose says as she walks away.

John watches her for a moment, before turning to Tony.

"So, when-when you say you’re concerned about her, you actually _are_ concerned?"

"Yes, with how self-destructive she tends to be, of course."

"I mean, it actually _is_ a childish feud?" John asked in disbelief.

"She’s always so resentful these days. You can imagine the Christmas dinners," Tony replied, watching as Rose walks away.

"Yeah ... no. God, no!" John says, grimacing at what those Christmas dinners looked like.

"I-I’d better, um ..." John says.

He turns back to not-Anthea, who has been standing nearby throughout the conversation with her eyes fixed on her BlackBerry.

"Hello again," John greeted.

She looks up and smiles brightly.

"Hello," Not-Anthea greeted back.

"Yes, we-we met earlier on this evening," John says, still trying hopelessly to set up a date.

She stares at him as if she has never seen him before but is pretending that she remembers him.

"Oh!"

"Okay, good night," John says as he gives up.

He includes Tony in his glance, then turns and follows after Rose.

"Good night, Doctor Watson," Tony calls out.

John catches up to Rose and they walk away side by side.

"So: dim sum," John states.

"Mmm! The fortune cookies are always so predictable."

"Of course they are," John agreed.

"You did get shot, though," Rose stated.

"Sorry?" John asked.

"In Afghanistan. There _was_ an actual wound," Rose continued.

"Oh, yeah. Shoulder," John said.

"Knew it!" Rose exclaimed like a child.

"No you didn’t," John said accusingly.

"The left one," Rose said, trying to be clever.

"Lucky guess," John retorts.

"I never guess," Rose defensively says.

"Yes you do," John says, laughing.

He looks across to Rose, who is smiling.

"What are you so happy about?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just been a long time since I've had this kind of company," Rose cheerfully said.

"Really?" John asked.

"Really," Rose replied

Back at the car, Not-Anthea turns to Tony who is watching the pair as they walk away.

"Sir, shall we go?" she asked.

"Interesting, that soldier fellow," Tony mused.

Not-Anthea looks briefly at the departing pair, then turns her attention back to her BlackBerry.

"He could be the making of my sister– or make her worse than ever. Either way, we’d better upgrade their surveillance status. Grade Three Active," Tony says.

Not-Anthea looks up from her phone.

"Sorry, sir. Whose status?" she asked.

"Rose Tyler and Doctor Watson," Tony replied.  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of an AU Study in Pink. I probably do need to tweak the character interactions, and definitely would need to tweak Rose's dialogue/dialogue that regards Rose. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated.
> 
> Last Edited: 10/12/2020


	7. The Blind Banker: A Row with A Machine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is having a bad time with a self-service checkout. Rose isn't doing much better at the flat.

At the supermarket, John Watson is standing at one of two self-service checkouts, scanning items from his basket. A short queue has formed behind him. John scans another item,  
"Unexpected item in the bagging area. Please try again," said the automated voice.

Back at Baker Street, Rose is under attack from a heavily robed figure. The attacker slashes at her with a curved sword, and Roses dodges him, avoiding the blow. The man backs Rose up to a sofa, taking another swing as Rose ducks, and proceeds to kick the man hard in the chest, shoving him backward. The man stumbles as Rose charges forward.

Back at the supermarket, John holds lettuce in a plastic bag and moves it slowly across the scanner in an attempt to get it to read the barcode.  
"Item not scanned. Please try again," the machine said.  
"D'you think you could keep your voice down," John retorted to the machine.

In the flat, the attacker holds his sword horizontally with both hands and is pushing Rose into the kitchen. Rose proceeds to attempt to disarm the man but cuts her hands on the blade. She grimaces for a moment, before dodging another attack by the man, which puts a dent onto the table.

Back yet again in the supermarket, after a lot of attempts at rescanning items, John has finally got everything he needs scanned. He proceeds to start the payment process, inserting his card into the chip-and-Pin machine. He types in his PIN and waits.  
"Card not authorized," the machine alerted, "Please use an alternative method of payment."  
"Yes, all right! I've got it!" John shouted to the machine  
John then searches his pockets, looking for change, before finding nothing.  
"Got nothing," John muttered.  
"Right, keep it. Keep that," John said to the machine, before angrily walking away, abandoning his shopping and his card.

Back in the flat, Rose is on her feet, trying to think of a plan to finish off the attacker, before she got filleted. An idea pops into her head, and she ducks as the man slash at her horizontally, before kicking the man in the balls. The man yelps in pain, dropping the sword. Rose then takes the sword and proceeds to hit the man with the flat side of the sword, knocking him out. Rose then looks down at the man, thinking of how to clean up the mess before John makes it back to the apartment.

Sometime later, Rose is sitting in an armchair calmly with her laptop on her. John soon walks up the stairs and into the living room, stopping just inside the room and looking around, having a faint suspicion something has happened in his absence, but not being able to tell what it was. He then looks back at Rose. Rose looks up, before asking,  
"So, where's the shopping?" Rose asked.  
"Yeah, I didn't get the shopping," John replied.  
"What? Why not?" Rose asked.  
"Because I had a row, in the shop, with a chip-and-PIN machine," John said.  
"You...you had a row with a machine," Rose asked with concern.  
"Sort of. It sat there and I shouted abuse. Have you got cash?"  
Rose gets up and fetches her wallet, digging out her card, before handing it to him, saying, "Take my card."  
John takes the card, before asking,  
"What happened about the case you were offered - the Jaria Diamond?"  
"Wasn't interested," Rose responded.  
"I sent them a message."  
Before leaving, John notices a gouge in the table. He sighs at this, rubbing at the mark seeing if it could be removed, before giving up.  
"Ugh," John exacerbated.  
John looks across at Rose, seeing if he could get an answer. Rose is just smiling innocently, and John trots down the stairs, before Rose falls back on to the chair, letting out a sigh of relief.

Later, John staggers up the stairs carrying a few bags of shopping, with Rose carrying the other bags. After dropping the bags off, Rose quickly returns to her laptop, reading an e-mail about an incident at the bank, and the man who sent it was hoping Rose would help sort it out. John drops off his bags and then goes across the room, picking up a small pile of letters. He flicks through each one, frowning as he read the contents. He then mutters,  
"Oh. Need to get a job."  
"Need any help?" Rose asked.  
"No, not really," John told Rose.  
John then puts the letters back onto the table, looking at Rose, then glancing at the bills again.  
"Listen, um...if you'd be able to lend me some..."  
"Money?" Rose asked  
"Yeah," John said.  
"Sure," Rose answered, before writing a check and handing it to him.  
She then walks over to grab her coat, before John asked her,  
"Where are you going?"  
"I need to go to the bank," Rose replied, before taking her coat and heading out the door.  
John frowns, before jumping up and hurrying to join her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last Edited: 10/12/2020


	8. The Blind Banker: The Bank

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose and John head to the bank.

Rose leads John to Shad Sanderson Bank, which is Tower 42 on Old Broad Street. John stares in awe at the bank.

"Yes, when you said we were going to the bank..."

He gets on an escalator behind Rose while Rose is observing her surroundings, especially the electronic readers in order to open glass barrier gates. The pair reach the top and Rose walks over to the reception desk and addresses one of the receptionists.

"Hello, I'm here to have a meeting with Sebastian Wilkes'. The name is Rose Tyler, and I was wondering if you could point me to his office." The receptionist tells Rose to follow, and Rose and John proceed to head to his office.

A little later, the pair has been shown to Wilke's office and now Sebastian walks in, grinning at Rose.

"Rose Tyler," Sebastian says.

"Sebastian," Rose says.

They both shake hands.

"Howdy. How long's it been? 8 years since I last saw you at Torchwood," Sebastian replied.

Rose looks at him very anxiously, wondering whether everyone at Torchwood knew about what happened after she left.

"This is my friend, John Watson," Rose introduced.

'Friend?" Sebastian asked.

"Friend," John emphasized.

"Right," Sebastian said as John and Sebastian shake hands. He then proceeds to throw a look at Rose, which said he knew about the drugs.

Rose groans at this, not needing any more people to know her three years of drug abuse.

"Well, grab a pew. D'you need anything? Coffee, water?"

Rose shakes her head.

"No," John replied.

"No? We're all sorted here, thanks," Sebastian told his secretary. As the secretary leaves, Sebastian sits down at his desk, and the other two sit side by side opposite him.

"So," Sebastian started, "show me that new trick you got."

"It's not a trick," Rose quietly says.

"Ok then. Just show me what you got," Sebastian said.

"You've been abroad. Flying around the world twice in a month," Rose deduced.

"How did you know that?" Sebastian asked.

"Your watch. The time was right but the date was wrong. Said two days ago. You crossed the dateline twice but you didn't alter it," Rose explained.

"And how did you know it was in a month?"

"New Breitling. Only came out this February," Rose finished.

Sebastian pauses, before replying, "Seems like you may be useful after all," before chuckling. He then claps his hands together, becoming more serious.

"I'm glad you could make it over. We've had a break-in."

Sebastian then leads them onto the trading floor towards another door.

"Sir William's office - the bank's former Chairman. The room's been left here like a sort of memorial. Someone broke in late last night."

"What did they steal?" John asked.

"Nothing. Just left a little message." Sebastian unlocks the door, and they soon enter a room with a plain white wall behind the large desk. There's a piece of graffiti right next to a painting hunt on the wall. The graffiti looks like a number 8, but with the top of the number left open, and above it is an almost horizontal straight line. Across the eyes of the portrait itself, another almost horizontal line has been sprayed. The yellow paint is running down the portrait. Rose is analyzing the graffiti before they head back to Sebastian's office.

Sebastian then shows the pair the security footage of the office from the previous night. "Sixty seconds apart," Sebastian says.

"So, someone came up here in the middle of the night, splashed paint around, then left within a minute," Sebastian says.

"How many ways into that office?" Rose asks.

"Well, that's where this gets really interesting," Sebastian replies.

Back in the reception area, Sebastian shows them a screen on a computer that has a layout of the trading floor and its surrounding offices. Each indicated door has a light against it showing its security status.

"Every door that opens in this bank, it gets logged right here. Every walk-in cupboard, every toilet."

"That door didn't open last night," Rose pointed out.

"There's a hole in our security. Find it and we'll pay you - five figures," Sebastian replied. He then reaches into the pocket of his jacket and takes out a cheque.

"This is an advance. Tell me how he got in, there's a bigger one on its way," Sebastian continued.

"Thank you for the cheque, but I don't need the money," Rose replied, before swanning off.

John watches her go, before turning to Sebastian.

"She's, uh, she's kidding you, obviously." John holds out his hand.

"Sh-shall I look after that for her?" Sebastian hands the cheque to him.

"Thanks."

He then looks at the figure on the cheque, shaking his head in disbelief that this is only the advance.

Rose has returned to Sir William's office and is taking photographs on her mobile phone of the graffiti. Once she has taken several pictures, she turns around, concentrating at the glass doorway to Sir William's office. She then ducks sideways and hurries across the floor, to the bemusement of the traders on the floor. She dances across the floor, trying to figure out where the graffiti could be seen, before finally coming to a stop, finding the intended target of the graffiti - Edward Van Coon. She then takes a photo of the sign on her phone before heading off.

Not long afterward, Rose is leading John back towards the escalators.

"So d'you think we should sniff around here for a bit longer?" John asked.

"Got everything I need to know already, thanks," Rose responded.

"Hmm?" John asked.

"That graffiti was a message for someone at the bank working on the trading floors. We find the intended recipient and..." Rose trailed off, trying to let John finish the sentence.

"...they'll lead us to the person who sent it," John finished.

"Yep," Rose happily replied.

"Well, there's three hundred people up there. Who was it meant for?" John asked.

"Even though there were three hundred people up there, there were only a few places you could see the graffiti from. That narrows down the receiver. The message was delivered at eleven thirty-four last night, which tells us the receiver usually comes here late at night," Rose explained.

"So?" John asked.

"So, this means the receiver comes to trade with Hong Kong in the middle of the night, which further narrows down our receiver to Edward Van Coon," Rose finished.

"Taxi!" Rose called out.

After a taxi ride, they are outside a block of flats and Rose presses the door buzzer marked 'Van Coon'. Releasing it, she looks into the security camera above the buzzers, waits a couple of seconds, then presses the buzzer again. There's no response.

"So, what do we do now? Sit here and wait for him to come back?" John asked.

Rose then looks at the number of buzzers on the wall, then proceeds to say, "Just moved in."

"What?"

"The floor above has a new label," pointing at the label before buzzing it.

"Could have just replaced it," John reasoned.

"No-one ever does that," Rose retorted.

"Hello?" Ms. Wintle asked.

Rose then turns to the camera and smiles, "Hi! Um, I live in the flat just below you. I-I don't think we've met." She then grins into the camera.

"No, well, uh, I've just moved in," Ms. Wintle replied. Rose then throws a "told you so" glace at John, then turns back to the camera.

"Actually, I've just locked my keys in my flat," grimacing and biting her lips.

"D'you want me to buzz you in?" Ms. Wintle asked.

"Yeah, of course," Rose replied.

After being buzzed into the building, Rose and John head to Van Coon's apartment. Rose then turns to John, warning him,

"This next part is going to make little sense, and is probably illegal."

"What? You're going to picklock the door?" John asked.

"Nope!" Rose said, popping the p. She then grabs something out of her pockets, a silver tube with a blue crystal on the end, before pressing a button and pointing the blue crystal at the door. The device buzzes, and soon the door unlocks.

"What is that?" John asked.

"A sonic screwdriver," Rose nonchalantly replied.

"No, seriously, what _is_ that," John pressed.

"It's a screwdriver that's sonic, hence, sonic screwdriver," Rose explained, showing it to him before pocketing it.

"Ok..." John awkwardly replied.

They soon walk into the apartment that appeared to belong to a wealthy person. Rose then observes the area, filing away details before heading to a set of closed double doors that appear to belong to the bedroom. Rose tries to open it, but it's locked. She then takes out the screwdriver, buzzing it, and the door unlocks. She opens the door only to be greeted by a gruesome sight.

"John," Rose called out.

"Rose, are you alright?" John asked.

"Yeah...You may want to mind your eyes as you head in," Rose warned. Soon, John heads into the bedroom, greeted by the sight of Rose dialing on her phone, and a dead body.

Later, the police have arrived, and a photographer is taking pictures of Van Coon's body lying on the bed. A forensics officer is dusting for fingerprints on the nearby mirror. Rose has taken off her jacket and is in the bedroom putting on a pair of latex gloves. John stands beside her.

"D'you think he'd lost a lot of money? I mean, suicide is pretty common among City boys," John reasoned.

"We don't know that it _was_ suicide," Rose emphasized.

"Come on. The door was locked from the inside; you had to unlock the door using that thingy..."

"Sonic Screwdriver," Rose interrupted.

"...to unlock the door," John finished.

Rose the squats by a suitcase on the floor near the bed and has opened the lid, looking at the contents.

"Been away three days, judging by the laundry," Rose said.

She then sees there's a deep indentation in the clothing inside the case, then straightens up and looks at John.

"Look at the case. There was something tightly packed inside it," Rose said.

"Thanks - I'll take your word for it," John said.

"What?" Rose asked, looking at John's funny expression.

"Yeah, I'm not desperate to root around some bloke's dirty underwear," John replied.

"Those symbols at the bank - the graffiti. Why were they put there?" Rose asked.

"What, some sort of code?" John asked,

"Obviously," Rose replied.

"Why were they painted? If you want to communicate, why not use e-mail or text?" Rose wondered.

"Well, maybe he wasn't answering," John supplied.

"Oh good. You follow," Rose said.

"No," John said. Rose then throws him a questioning look before moving on to examine Van Coon's hands.

"What kind of a message would everyone try to avoid?" Rose asked.

John frowns in confusion.

"What about this morning - those letters you were looking at?" Rose said, trying to jog his memory.

"Bills," John replied.

Rose then pries open Van Coon's mouth and pulls out a small origami flower from inside. Air hisses out from the dead man's lungs.

"Yes. He was being threatened."

John looked closely at the paper flower as Rose lifts an evidence bag to put the flower into it.

"Not by the gas board," John commented.

Soon, Rose is faced with a very young man, so she at first thought he was a sergeant. However, noticing his posture and his command presence, she identifies him as a detective.

"Ah, Detective. We haven't met," Rose said, offering her hand out to shake. The young man puts his hands on his hips.

"Yeah, I know who you are; and I'd prefer it if you didn't tamper with any of the evidence," the man retorted.

Lowering her hand, Rose gives the evidence bag to the officer.

"I've phoned Lestrade. Is he on his way?" Rose asked.

"He's busy. _I'm_ in charge. And it's Detective Inspector. Dimmock."

Rose was surprised by this, but didn't question him any further. Dimmock walks out of the room. The pair follow him into the living room where he hands the bag to one of the forensics team.

"We're obviously looking at a suicide," Dimmock announced.

"That does seem the only explanation of all the facts," John said, agreeing with Dimmock.

"Wrong," Rose bluntly said, "It's one _possible_ explanation of some of the facts."

She turns to Dimmock.

"You've got a solution that you like, but you're choosing to ignore anything you see that doesn't comply with it."

"Like?" Dimmock asked.

"The wound was on the right side of his head," Rose said.

"And?"

"Van Coon was left-handed."

Rose then makes a motion, before continuing, "Requires quite a bit of contortion."

"Left-handed?" Dimmock asked.

"Look around the flat," Rose said. 

"Coffee table on the left-hand side; coffee mug handle pointing to the left. Power sockets: the ones used are on the left. Pen and paper are on the left-hand side of the phone because he picked it up with his right and took down messages with his left. D'you want me to go on?" Rose asked.

"No, I think you've covered it," John tiredly said.

"Good," Rose said, before turning to Dimmock, "It's highly unlikely that a left-handed man would shoot himself in the right side of his head. My conclusion is that someone broke in here and murdered him. The only explanation for all of the fact."

"But the gun: why..." Dimmock confusedly said.

"He was waiting for the killer. He'd been threatened," Rose explained.

Rose then starts to walk away, putting on her jacket.

"What?" Dimmock asked.

"Today at the bank. Sort of a warning," John said.

"He fired a shot when his attacker came in," Rose explained.

"And the bullet?" Dimmock asked.

"Went through the open window," Rose finished.

"Oh, come on! What are the chances of that?!" Dimmock skeptically exclaimed.

"Wait until you get the ballistics report. The bullet in his brain wasn't fired from his gun. I guarantee it," Rose said.

"But if his door was locked from the inside, how did the killer get in?" Dimmock asked.

"Good! You're finally asking the right questions," Rose said, before running out of the apartment.

At a restaurant, Sebastian is having lunch with some clients or work colleagues.

"It was a threat. That's what the graffiti meant," Rose said as she arrived at Sebastian's table.

"I'm kind of in a meeting. Can you make an appointment with my secretary?" Sebastian said.

"I don't think this can wait. Sorry, Sebastian. One of your traders - someone who worked in your office - was killed," Rose deadpanned.

"What?" Sebastian exclaimed.

"Van Coon. The police are at his flat," John explained.

"Killed?" Sebastian asked, full of shock.

"Yes, killed," Rose repeated.

Shortly afterward, Sebastian and the pair are sitting down, facing each other at a table.

"Harrow; Oxford. Very bright guy. Worked in Asia for a while, so..." Sebastian trailed off.

"...you gave him the Hong Kong accounts," John finished.

"Lost five mill in a singly morning; made it all back a week later. Nerves of steel, Eddie had," Sebastian explained.

"Who'd wanna kill him?" John asked.

"We all make enemies," Sebastian explained.

"You don't all end up with a bullet through your temple."

Sebastian's phone beeps a text alert.

"Not usually. 'Scuse me."

He gets out his phone and looks at the message.

"It's my chairman. The police have been on to him. Apparently, they're telling him it was a suicide."

"Well, they've got it wrong, Sebastian. He was murdered," Rose said.

"Well, I'm afraid they don't see it like that, and neither does my boss. I hired you to do a job. Don't get side-tracked," Sebastian said, before walking off.

"I thought bankers were all supposed to be heartless bastards," John said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last Updated: 10/14/2020


End file.
